Christmas Nigh, Adeste Fi!
by Teacup of JAG
Summary: How season 8’s Christmas episode, ‘All Ye Faithful’ might have continued with holiday fun and romance in the air.
1. Part 1

**Christmas Nigh; Adeste Fi!**

By Teacup (of JAG)

A/N: I've decided to celebrate Christmas in July!

In JAG's season 8 Christmas episode, 'All Ye Faithful,' I loved all of the allusions to classic Christmas stories. So, I decided to continue the storyline from that episode in a similar fashion.

It's a shipper story (H/M), but also covers the larger JAG family. There's a bit of humor with the Christmas references and such, but the story has its serious moments too.

I'm going to challenge myself to try to post a part a day, so that ... yes, the goal is for the last part to fall on the 25th day of the month.

If anyone wants to and has nothing better to do, keep a running tab of the Christmas references/allusions from each chapter in this story. After I have posted the very last part of the story (Part 25), you can e-mail me your list, and I'll see how close you get. Eventually, I will probably put up my own list crediting the various underlying Christmas stories/songs/traditions.

I'm okay whether people feel like making a list (and checking it twice) or not. … However, I do appreciate feedback, … so I really would like people to review.

Disclaimer: I don't own JAG. If I did, season eight's Christmas episode would have been a multi-hour special, and 'All Ye Faithful' would have continued something like this …

**Christmas Nigh; Adeste Fi!**

**Part 1**

After dinner, little AJ was playing with a Rudolph keychain that lit up. Making the reindeer fly, he accidentally knocked over a cup of red fruit punch which spilled out onto the table, but mostly found its way all over his grandfather.

Big Bud was covered with the crimson substance. The juice somehow managed to thoroughly tarnish his shirt, jacket, and pants.

"AJ!" Harriet exasperatedly scolded her son. Then, addressing her father-in-law, she quickly offered, "I'm sorry."

Immediately, those guests who had remained in the dining room began a collective effort to clean up the mess on the table, some saving certain items from the spreading liquid and others grabbing paper towel to soak up what they could.

Big Bud was obviously not happy, and he snapped at his grandson. "You ought to watch where you're swingin' that thing!"

Little AJ's lip quivered because he was on the verge of tears, but he squeaked out, "Sorry."

Harriet, who was just offering Big Bud some paper towel to wipe himself off with, now gave him a disapproving glance for the harsh tone he had used with her son.

The tough, old master chief noticed both Harriet's and little AJ's faces and managed to calm himself.

"Aw, I know it was an accident," he relented in an effort to mitigate his earlier reaction. Looking himself over, he sighed and then declared, "Guess I won't be going out anywhere tonight after all."

Bud offered to help. "Come on, Dad. I'll see if I can find you something else to wear. It'll be fine."

"I don't know how well I'd fit into any of your suits, son."

Harriet grimaced and reluctantly broke in, "Actually, …"

Bud realized what his wife was going to say, and he regretfully finished the thought. "… all of my other suits are currently at the dry cleaners."

"Oh, that's just great," Big Bud stated with sarcasm. "Well, I'm not going to church dressed like some slob!"

"Dad," Bud reproached him.

"You need to at least get out of those clothes," Harriet told her father-in-law. "If those stains aren't treated now, they'll set, and you'll never get them out."

"Fine," humphed Big Bud, allowing his eldest son to lead him upstairs.

Meredith, AJ Chegwidden's date, decided to fill in the awkward silence that followed. "So AJ,… what did you ask Santa for this year?"

The Admiral's eyes popped open with surprise that she would ask him such a question in front of so many people, considering that the kind of response he knew she'd want would be rather … personal.

But then he realized she was addressing the younger AJ.

Little AJ still didn't know Meredith very well, and he got shy when she talked to him.

"Go on, honey," Harriet assured her son. "You can tell Ms. Cavanaugh what you want for Christmas."

Slowly, a grin began to form on little AJ's face until he finally exploded with exclamation of his Christmas wish. "A puppy!" he declared.

"We talked about that, AJ," his mother reminded him. "You know we can't have one right now. And Santa knows that too," she gently pointed out.

"I know," the boy replied glumly.

Bud returned, leaving his dad in one of the upstairs bedrooms. He explained that his father wanted to be left alone to choose an outfit for church.

Meanwhile, Meredith was not going to be deterred from engaging the Roberts' young son. "So, what else do you want, AJ? There must have been some other good things on your wish list."

AJ's eyes now lit up. "Yeah," he agreed. "I want a plane!"

Smiling amusedly, Mac looked across the table at Harm with suspicion. "Sounds like _someone's_ been influencing him."

Harm denied it, insisting, "I had _nothing_ to do with this."

Bud eagerly jumped in. "Well, he does like to hear about your flying, sir. … AJ, tell them what kind of plane you want."

"It's _this_ big," declared little AJ, stretching his arms far apart to illustrate. "And it's a fighter plane like Harm flies. And you can make it fly with 'mote control."

"Actually, it's radio controlled," Bud quickly corrected, and enthusiastically continued, "and it's really cool! It can fly up to 50 miles per hour with a range of 2500 feet. It's got nose wheel steering and it's designed with a laser cut motor mount."

"Sounds impressive," commented Jennifer.

"It is," Bud went on with his eyes alight. "It's powered by a high torque 480 7.2 v electric motor and an 8.4 volt 1000 nickel metal hydride battery."

Little AJ, not caring about the technical details in the least, cut to the chase. "And it can go loop-de-loop!" he proclaimed, gesturing with his arms.

Harm laughed. "That _is_ always the best part," he agreed.

"Yeah, but, sir," Bud continued excitedly. "It also comes with a flight simulator program for the computer. You can use it to help program a flying sequence for the actual plane."

"My, toys have sure gotten complicated these days," commented Meredith. "When I was little AJ's age, the things I wanted were very simple."

"What did you want back then?" asked the Admiral out of curiosity for what his girlfriend was like as a kid.

Meredith answered, pouting a little, "Me? … I wanted a hula hoop!"

Mikey Roberts, who was sitting next to his young nephew, urged, "Tell them what else is on your list, AJ."

Little AJ readily complied. "Games to play and lots and lots of action figures. … And building blocks; I want to build a _big_ castle with _big_ towers!"

Sturgis had returned to the table from the other room where he had been talking with the warrant officer who had provided them with the dinner this evening. "Looking forward to opening your presents then, huh, AJ?"

Little AJ nodded, practically bouncing out of his seat with excitement.

Harriet supplemented, "He can hardly stand the wait."

Just then, something caught Mikey's eye. "Wow!" He noticed his father coming down the steps and was surprised to see Big Bud dressed up in formal military attire. Everyone now looked up at the retired master chief, surprised, but quite impressed by what he was wearing.

Big Bud simply remarked, "What? You didn't expect me to come down in a bathrobe, did you?"

He had stored his formal uniform there at his son's house, not expecting to ever wear it again. But with his options limited for what to dress in for church, he found the uniform in the spare closet and dusted it off. It was tight, but still fit.

"You look very good, Master Chief," Jennifer complimented.

The elder Roberts groaned a thank you. "I feel like I'm going to bust my gut."

A few people laughed lightly at the comment. Sturgis remarked, "I think we're all feeling a bit stuffed since dinner."

"No kidding," Mac chimed in. "I swear this dress just shrunk a size. I feel like I'm about to pop out of it."

Suddenly realizing that she had left herself wide open for a snarky comment about either her weight or, more likely, about coming out of her dress, she glared at Harm, daring him … no, _warning_ him _not_ to make a wisecrack.

Harm had a twinkle in his eyes which let Mac know that some amusing thought had indeed flitted through his head. But he simply grinned and held his hands up defensively.

"I'm not going to touch that with a thirty-nine and a half foot pole," Harm declared.

The Admiral, who had gotten up from the table and was passing behind Harm at that moment, patted the Commander on the back. "Wise man," he said.

--------------

TBC …

A/N: What do you think so far? By the way, the next part is all Harm and Mac.


	2. Part 2

**Christmas Nigh; Adeste Fi!**

**Part 2**

Later that evening, Harm parked the Lexus near his apartment and quickly made his way to the other side of the car to open the door for his passenger.

This startled Mac, who had not intended to get out. "I thought you were just going to run up and grab some things?" she asked.

"Come up for a few minutes," he invited. "Since I'm here, I want to change out of my uniform. No sense you waiting in the cold."

Harm offered Mac a hand, which, after removing her seatbelt, she accepted.

"Thank you," she said, wondering if Harm felt the same jolt of electricity and warmth as she did when their hands touched.

It seemed to Mac to be a good Christmas Eve, now that she knew Harm had made his way back home safely. She couldn't help her worrying earlier in the day that something might have gone wrong during Harm's flight back from the carrier.

Ever since Harm nearly died a year and a half earlier, when he had to punch out in a storm and was nearly lost to the sea and hypothermia, she guessed she'd always be nervous when he got in the cockpit of a Navy jet. But fortunately, that particular stress had ended for tonight when Harm walked in to join them for dinner.

After eating at the Roberts' new house, the JAG gang had all gone together to the evening church service. Chaplain Turner was not there this year, but the preacher tonight had been no less inspiring. The topic this Christmas Eve had been faith.

Mac had ridden to the chapel with Harm in his SUV. After the service, Harm insisted on driving Mac back to her apartment, saying that the weather was turning bad. As far as he was concerned, it was unsafe for her to be driving her corvette on the freezing roads. He didn't want her spinning out and crashing into a tree or something. She could pick her car up from Bud's and Harriet's another day.

However, Harm wanted to stop by his apartment first. He still had some presents for Mac, and with his delayed trip home from the carrier he didn't have time to pick them up earlier. He got Mac to agree to make the stop and then head to her place to exchange their remaining gifts.

As they walked down Harm's hallway to his door, Mac asked, "So, are you ever gonna tell me how you lost your wings?"

The missing pin from his uniform had been the second thing Mac had noticed when Harm joined them at the dinner table earlier that evening. The first had been that he looked safe and sound.

"I didn't lose them," he said.

"Don't tell me you managed to upset 'the powers that be,' and they yanked your flight status?" Mac asked, only half-joking.

Harm laughed. "Almost. Closer than I'd like to admit." He thought about the CAG aboard the USS Coral Sea who threatened to do just that if Harm tried any stunts on the flight back. The weather balloon incident could have cost him.

As Harm opened the door to his apartment, he continued, "… But, no, … I _believe_ my flight status is still intact. … I gave the wings to someone who deserved them."

He proceeded to tell Mac about the young pilot at the Wall who had missed the graduation ceremony from the Naval Air Training Command and, thus, had not yet gotten his wings. He had come to D.C. instead to help and support a friend who was on suicide watch.

Harm believed the young man shouldn't have to wait to be given wings. He'd earned them in more ways than one.

Mac looked at Harm with admiration and a smile. "You're a good man," she declared.

Harm chuckled. "Yeah, me and Charlie Brown."

Glancing over at a corner of Harm's apartment, Mac replied, "Is that what inspired what you're calling a Christmas tree this year?" She walked over to take a closer look at the rather pathetic looking, greenish, sticky thing that was nearly falling over. Its only addition was a string of lights.

Harm began to protest, "Hey, it's a perfectly respectable - "

"- twig?" supplied Mac with amusement.

"It just needs some lovin'," Harm countered. He hadn't had a chance to decorate the tree yet, and his trip to the carrier had left the poor thing abandoned for a few days.

"You've always been a sucker for lost causes," Mac noted as she fingered a small branch of the tree, only to have several needles fall off in her hand.

"Not lost causes … Just things that need to be given a chance." Harm picked up a pair of scissors that he'd left out when he was wrapping presents, and he clipped off the dead, and now bare, branch. "All things in life that are really worth having … take a little work," he declared.

Mac pursed her lips in thought for a second. "I'd have to agree with that."

"You should," said Harm. "You've taken on your share of the ostensibly impossible."

"Yeah, I've put up with you for how many years?" she joked.

"Come on, you love having me around," insisted Harm with his cocky attitude and humor.

Mac shot him a look that said 'you're full of yourself.'

However, she then took on a more serious expression, showing that she really did agree with his statement. Hoping that she hadn't revealed too much, Mac quickly looked away, but doing so simply clued Harm in to how much he really did mean to her.

That reminded him that he had found out that Mac had been nervous about him flying earlier that day. He knew that Mac probably felt a little uneasy every time he got to pilot a jet. He wished she felt more comfortable with it, because it was never his intention to give her any extra anxiety.

"I'm sorry I worried you today," he said gently.

"Who said I was worried?" Mac lightly tried to deny it.

"Coates mentioned something."

"I just told her you were giving me cause for a headache, – nothing that doesn't happen most everyday," she figuratively ribbed him.

"So you weren't worried?"

"About you? Flying a plane? What _possible_ reason could I have to be worried?" she teased sarcastically.

Harm quietly stated, "You sounded worried on the message you left on my phone."

"You got that?" Mac questioned with surprise. "And you didn't call me back?" Now she sounded offended that he had ignored her instead of immediately calling to ease her concern.

"I didn't get it until I was almost at Bud and Harriet's," he explained. "It seemed silly to call when I was right outside."

"Oh." That seemed to placate her.

"But you weren't worried?" he asked, noting that she had been, but not rubbing it in.

"Not at all," she stated confidently, aware that Harm knew she was lying. She just wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of her admission.

It was easier to give him a hard time, which she proceeded to do. "… I just thought it was very inconsiderate of you to be late when Bud and Harriet had gone through so much trouble to have this dinner tonight."

"Not to mention the efforts of Mr. Egg Noggins," Harm added.

Mac furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, but her face relaxed once she interpreted Harm's humor. "You're referring to Warrant Officer Greg Scoggins?"

"I think he liked you," Harm pointed out.

"What's not to like?" she quipped.

"He was flirting with you."

"Was he?" Mac asked with mock ignorance. She knew that after the warrant officer had a few drinks – yes, of eggnog, he had made one or two remarks indicating that he thought she was attractive.

Despite the preposterousness that Mac would consider something with the man, regulations aside even, she couldn't help but wonder if Harm was acting a little jealous.

"You flirted back," Harm evenly stated. He meant it as evidence of her awareness, but it really confirmed his apparent jealousy. Either way, it momentarily offended Mac as it was entirely unfounded.

"The extent of my interaction with the man was a few exchanges during dinner - since he was seated next to me, - wishing him a merry Christmas, and thanking him for the food," she objected with annoyance.

"Exactly," agreed Harm. "He could have easily seen all that as flirting."

Mac rolled her eyes. This conversation was getting ridiculous.

"Well, it's a good thing he had a sudden burst of generosity," she said, "… or we wouldn't have had anything to eat tonight. Could have been a very sad Christmas."

"I don't know about that," Harm said seriously and softly. There was no trace of arrogance or jealousy in his words. His statement had nothing to do with the warrant officer. There was no sign of humor either. "Food's not nearly as important as the company," he explained.

Their eyes met, and they shared a special moment in appreciation of their makeshift JAG family, … and more importantly, of each other.

Finally, Mac broke the silence. "Well, it all worked out. … We got food; … he got company. … Thirteenth setting for a stranger seemed appropriate on tonight of all nights."

"Why's that?"

"When I was little," explained Mac, "before everything got entirely too bad in my house, I remember my grandpa insisting that we put an extra place setting out at Christmas Eve dinner … for anyone who happened by. ... Some old story about a stranger visiting. If one came by on that night, you should welcome him as if you were welcoming Christ … You just might be."

"Interesting," said Harm.

"And we put a candle in the window to welcome anyone caught out on the cold, dark, and possibly snowy night. For anyone seeking shelter … like the Holy Family was that night when there was no room at the inn."

Harm was captivated watching Mac recall one of the few positive things from her childhood.

"Speaking of weather," Mac came back to the present, looking out Harm's window. "It's snowing harder. We should get going before it gets too bad." She joked, "Else I might have to stay here tonight."

"Would that be so bad?" asked Harm.

Mac smiled. "I suppose I've slept in far worse places than your couch, … but -"

"Who said you'd have to take the couch? I just put fresh sheets on my bed before I left for the Coral Sea. No cooties."

For just a second, Mac entertained the idea that she wouldn't mind Harm sharing some of his 'cooties' with her. As soon as that thought crossed her mind she quickly reined it in.

"I don't have my PJs," she said as an objection to the idea. It was lame, but all she could come up with to avoid anymore of this conversation.

"That wasn't a problem in Russia," Harm pointed out with a grin.

Mac didn't understand, and the look she gave him told him so.

He quoted to her the line she had given him, one that he would remember until the day he died. "'What pajamas?'"

There was only one thing on that evening long ago that floored Harm more than Mac's utterance of those words. … And that was when she emerged in her nightgown. That sight had caused him some very inappropriate urges that he was forced to battle throughout the night.

At the recounted words, Mac also recalled how the two of them ended up having to share a room in Russia. Her response had occurred after he told her to use the bathroom to change into her pajamas. 'What pajamas?' she had countered. Well, after all, she didn't have PJs with her in that far off country. She had a lovely, white nightgown.

Mac smirked as she remembered the interaction. And the look on his face. Now _that_, unlike anything with the warrant officer tonight, had been her flirting. Too bad that flirting between her and Harm was, at best, just a game between them.

"So Colonel," Harm interrupted her thoughts, "What pajamas will you be sleeping in tonight? … Cowboys?"

"No," Mac answered, recalling his visit to her and Chloe the year before when she'd been sporting her cowboy flannels.

"Too bad," said Harm. "I like those." And there was his lady-killer grin.

'Too bad, indeed,' thought Mac. Too bad this flirting was just a game. She was so in love with the man in front of her, but she didn't think he'd ever return the sentiment to the same degree. He'd never risk a relationship. Yep, to him, flirting with her was nothing more than some silly reindeer game.

TBC …

A/N: If you are so inclined, I think you're safe to mention some of the Christmas references in reviews. – There are so many in this story that I don't think you'll ruin anything for anyone who might be keeping their own 'list'. A number of them are blatantly obvious anyhow.

Anyway, I'd love to know how you like this so far.

Teacup (of JAG)


	3. Part 3

**Christmas Nigh; Adeste Fi!**

**Part 3**

The rest of the JAG gang had returned to the Roberts' house after church to retrieve cars and other items.

"You know, AJ," the Admiral addressed his young namesake, "I won't get to see you tomorrow. How about you open the gift from us now?"

The boy looked to his mom for permission.

Harriet agreed with a nod, suggesting, "Why don't you get your present for the Admiral too? You know which one it is?"

Little AJ nodded and scampered off to get it.

When he came back, they traded presents. Little AJ had picked out a puzzle of the solar system for the Admiral, and the Admiral gave the boy a checkerboard.

Little AJ looked at the game curiously.

"It's checkers," the Admiral informed him. "Do you know how to play?"

The boy shook his head. "No, sir," he said. His parents always called this man 'sir,' so he thought it was an appropriate response.

"Well, _sir_," Meredith emphasized, amused by the boy's manners, but teasing her boyfriend, "I think it's your responsibility to teach him."

"Can we play now?" asked little AJ, hopefully.

Bud interrupted, "I'm sure the Admiral and Ms. Cavanaugh want to head home now, AJ. It's late and the weather's getting bad."

"Nonsense," Meredith said. "We'll have no trouble on the snow with the truck."

The Admiral smiled at little AJ. "I think we have time for one game."

--------

After Harm had changed into casual clothes and picked up the presents, they headed back to Mac's place. As Harm concentrated on driving through the snow, Mac played with the radio stations, looking for something fun.

Static … _"__♪♪__-enbaum, O Tannenbaum, du kannst mir sehr gefallen!__ ♪♪__"_ A military drumbeat started up.

"Oh, I like this song." Mac turned the volume up.

"♪♪ _The news had come out in the First World War, the Bloody Red Baron was flying once more. The Allied command ignored all of its men and called on Snoopy to do it again. ♪♪ "_

"Actually, Mac, …" Harm objected.

"♪♪_Twas the night before Christm-♪♪"_

Harm turned the radio off, saying, "I really don't want to listen to that one."

"Ohhh-kay," said Mac, wondering about his apparent disdain for the song. "You got something against Snoopy as an ace fighter pilot?"

"No." His answer was very somber. "… It's just that not all pilots have been as lucky as Snoopy was … when flying combat missions on Christmas Eve."

Mac suddenly made the connection between the song and a very tough subject for Harm, … especially tonight. She felt a pang of sympathy, sorry that she had inadvertently been so insensitive.

Harm observed with a trace of sadness, "It seems the Vietnamese didn't have the same Christmas spirit as the Red Baron." Then, trying to smile, he added, "Maybe it would have helped if they celebrated the holiday."

"Oh, Harm. I'm sorry. … I didn't even think about the parallels to your father. I …" Mac trailed off, deciding not to talk about it anymore, since Harm probably didn't need anymore reminders of how his father had been shot down. "… I'm just sorry," she finished.

"It's okay, Mac," Harm assured her. "You wouldn't have known."

"No, I should have," Mac objected. "I've listened to the words; … I just never seriously thought about them."

Harm shrugged. "It's kind of hard to take a song about a cartoon dog seriously," Harm swallowed hard before adding, "… unless it makes you think of something else."

He was silent for a minute, and Mac sensed that she should not interrupt his pondering. Eventually, Harm felt the need to let Mac in on his thoughts and the events that the song made him recall.

"I remember the first time I really listened to the words of that song, … when I first understood the story," he began, almost in a sort of trance. "I was at school, and … the teacher let us have a Christmas party. She had a record player in the classroom and brought in her own holiday music collection.

"She put that song on, and, … I don't know why, … but I listened, …I mean _really_ listened. And suddenly, I was sitting there, … hearing this silly song, and thinking … for just a second that maybe my Dad could have been lucky too, - like Snoopy. … That Dad survived being shot down, and that for some reason, they … just let him go."

With frustrated desperation, Harm explained, "… Because that's the kind of miracle that's _supposed_ to happen at Christmastime."

"But then," he continued after a moment of silence, "I realized that if he'd been let go and sent back to our troops, … he would have made his way home by then. … And that made me sad … and angry. … It was so unfair. My Dad's flight that Christmas Eve wasn't … some cartoon. It didn't have a happy ending. And that stupid song was rubbing my nose in it!"

Mac wasn't sure what she could say, but again, she seemed to know that he wasn't done. So she just waited.

Following a lengthy pause, Harm suddenly admitted, "I started to cry, Mac. Right there at school. … In front of all the kids in class."

This time Mac knew that Harm was looking for a response from her. She had inwardly cringed when he told her he cried at school, because she knew how cruel kids could be about that kind of thing. "What happened then?" she tentatively asked.

"What do you think happened, Mac?" asked Harm rhetorically. "Tommy Brodenmeyer started making fun of me, and pretty soon all the guys were calling me a girly cry-baby."

Mac outwardly winced this time. "I'm guessing that led to an exchange of blows and a trip to the principal's office?" Mac hypothesized.

Harm nodded in affirmation. "In with the principal right after I saw the school nurse for my bloody lip."

"That wasn't too bad, … as injuries go," Mac observed, considering the damage that young boys are capable of inflicting on each other.

"No, not bad. Just my lip, a bad bruise on my face, and sore knuckles. … But Mom wasn't happy with me brawling in the classroom. She made me apologize to the other guy."

"Tommy Brodenmeyer?"

"Yeah." Harm smiled a little, with masculine pride. "He ended up with a shiner, busted glasses, … and a broken nose."

"You hit a boy with glasses?" Mac asked with surprise and an exaggerated 'shame on you' tone of disappointment.

"He was asking for it," Harm insisted, as he stopped the car at a red light. Harm then quietly acknowledged, "I never was very controlled when it came to my Dad."

Mac now gave Harm a soft smile, before sympathetically repeating her apology. "I'm sorry, Harm. I didn't mean to make you remember all that."

"No, it's okay," he told her. "Actually, … it was good to tell that story. I've … never told it to anyone before. … Mom never did find out what that fight was about. … I couldn't bring myself to admit it."

In a comforting gesture, Mac placed her hand on Harm's arm, which was resting atop the middle console. "I'm glad you could tell me."

Harm looked over at her, meeting her eyes. "Me too."

He moved his arm, but as Mac began to withdraw at his motion, he reached out, grasped her palm next to his, and brought their joined hands back to lie between them. For several moments they both sat, transfixed on their connection, until Mac noticed through the corner of her eye that the light had changed.

"Umm, … the light's green," she timidly pointed out. Harm looked up and saw that it was his turn to move in traffic. He gave Mac's hand a quick squeeze before reluctantly letting go of her to reclaim the steering wheel with both hands in order to make his left turn.

-----

TBC …


	4. Part 4

**Christmas Nigh; Adeste Fi!**

**Part 4**

Big Bud and Warrant Officer Scoggins were in the kitchen downing beers that the older man had stored in his car. Jennifer Coates was the only other one in the kitchen area, busy getting herself a glass of water.

"Could that sermon have gone on any longer?" complained Big Bud rhetorically.

Jennifer, who wasn't intimidated by the sometimes crotchety master chief, made her differing opinion known. "I thought it was great. I liked that it was about faith. Made me start thinking that I might be able to believe again."

"Faith …" repeated the warrant officer, who was by far the most inebriated person at the house. "Faith--ful … Faith--ful--ness. … That's all the preacher talked about!" He suddenly started laughing. "Ffffaith-fffful … is a ffffffunny word," he quite literally spit out. Jennifer had to wipe her arm off from the splatter.

"Very fffunny," Scoggins confirmed for himself.

Amused, Big Bud asked, "Then why didn't you laugh at church?"

"Nooo," the warrant officer said seriously, " … I had to be good at church. No laughing." Of course, Scoggins immediately began doing just that again. "Plus," he snorted, "there was too much snoring going on!! … Ha, ha … Did you hear that lady?"

Big Bud joined full-heartedly in the laughter. "Now _that_ was funny!" he agreed.

Jennifer tried to scold them. "It's not nice to make fun of people."

But really she was fighting the urge to giggle as well, remembering how Meredith had nodded off at church and began lightly snoring. Well, … lightly for a bear, maybe.

The poor Admiral had to elbow his date awake several times.

But Jennifer tried to fight the hilarity of the situation. She didn't think that it would be a good career move to mock the Admiral's girlfriend.

"No, we aren't making fun of her," objected Big Bud. "… I'm just sayin', … _she_ must have thought the whole 'faithful' lecture was a little long too!"

Suddenly, Warrant Officer Scoggins burst out, "I'm hot. Is it hot in here?"

Always ready with a solution, Big Bud told him, "Have some ice." The older man got up and opened the freezer. "Hey, there's a bowl of ice cream in here … with a spoon in it."

"Probably little AJ's," said Jennifer.

"Well, the spoon is stuck in it; I'd better leave it out to thaw," decided the master chief, setting the bowl out on the table.

"I can get it out," offered the warrant officer.

"Nah," Big Bud discouraged him. "It's frozen metal. Too cold to touch."

The warrant officer picked up the plastic bowl anyway and examined the shiny spoon embedded in the frozen mass of chocolate. His tongue peeked out through his lips as he thought and thought how to go about freeing the instrument.

Observing all the elements in the sight before him made Big Bud think of something. "I bet if you lick the handle of that spoon, your tongue'll stick to it."

"Will not!" Officer Scoggins disagreed. "Not if you just lick it."

"Go ahead, try it," encouraged Big Bud. "I dare you."

"No." Greg Scoggins wasn't going to take a silly dare, he decided.

"'Cause you know it'll stick."

"It won't. Not on a spoon." The warrant officer knew that spoons are obviously meant to go into mouths, so they wouldn't be made to stick to anything inside it.

"Then I dare you to do it," challenged Master Chief Roberts. "Triple dog dare you!!"

"Alright," Scoggins was going to prove his honor … "You'll see."

Jennifer had been enjoying the scene in front of her, but finally decided to intervene. "I don't think that's such a good …"

She was too late. Warrant Officer Scoggins had his tongue fixed to the frozen metal object, which was embedded in the solid ice cream, firmly attached to the bowl.

"Ahhh!" He tried to pull it off. "Ipt'tuck!!"

It was a rather funny sight, and Big Bud was rolling with laughter. "I told you so!"

A deep voice interrupted them. "Is everything okay in …" Sturgis caught sight of the man who was in a sheer state of panic with his tongue stretched out of his mouth, stuck to a spoon, which was bound by frozen ice cream in a bowl. "… here?"

Jennifer smiled innocently. "I think that once the Warrant Officer gets his tongue free, someone should probably drive him home," she suggested.

"Guess I could oblige," said Sturgis. Since he had talked to Scoggins after dinner, he had found out roughly where he lived, which wasn't too far from Sturgis' own place. "I'm about to head out though. Jen, do you need a ride too? The weather's getting pretty bad out there."

"Actually, that would be great, sir," replied Coates gratefully.

The warrant officer was groaning, and whimpering, and working himself up into a greater state of anxiety. Sturgis decided to take charge of the situation. He grabbed Scoggins and led him to the sink, where he turned on the water.

"You're lucky this is just a small object and you're not stuck outside where it won't warm up," Sturgis told the man. He checked the water temperature with his fingers, and then told Scoggins, "Bend your head down."

-----

Meanwhile, in the living room, the Admiral had been teaching little AJ how to play checkers. Since he was telling the youngster where to move, he had control of both sides of the game. So it was easy to manipulate things to make little AJ win.

"Well, AJ," said the Admiral, "looks like you beat me this time. Good game."

Mikey asked his nephew, "You have fun?"

Little AJ nodded. "I got three piles. A'miral 'kingeded' me."

"Three kings," interpreted Mikey, impressed. "Good job, buddy."

"Yep, I won, … I won!" bragged little AJ with attitude.

Harriet reprimanded her son. "Don't gloat, AJ. It's not nice, and it makes other people feel bad."

"You sad you lost, sir?" the proclaimed winner asked of his opponent.

"A little," the older AJ answered. "But 'wise men ne'er wail their present woes.'"

"Huh?" little AJ eloquently questioned.

"Richard the Second, isn't it?" asked Meredith, who had taken a moment to place the quote.

"You're the Shakespeare scholar," replied the Admiral. Then addressing the young boy, he explained, "It means that, yes, I'm a little sad about not winning, but it won't do me any good to be upset about it now. … You and I will just have to play again, and maybe you'll let me win next time, okay?"

"Okay."

Just then, they heard some commotion in the kitchen. "I'll go check it out," volunteered Mikey.

Looking at her son, Harriet asked, "Did you thank the Admiral for the game? And for teaching you to play?"

"Thank you," little AJ dutifully said.

"You're welcome," replied the Admiral. "And thank you for the puzzle."

"We can put it together tonight when we get back to your house," suggested Meredith.

The Admiral wasn't quite that eager. "I don't know about tonight, but soon."

"Come now, AJ," she addressed her boyfriend. "We're two intelligent people. I think we can tackle this puzzle tonight …" Then she added rather suggestively, "… Unless you want to get started tackling other things as soon as we get home."

The Admiral panicked, literally turning red, partly out of embarrassment that she said that in front of others and partly from remembering her earlier comment about hoping for a baby, -- which was something he was _not _prepared to deal with at the moment. He quickly decided, "We'll do that puzzle tonight, AJ. Thank you."

The Admiral and Meredith gave their good Christmas wishes to all and left for the evening. Mikey came back out from the kitchen, laughing a little. At the curious looks he was getting, he explained, "Commander Turner has been, uh, getting the warrant officer to loosen his tongue."

"The warrant officer is keeping some kind of secret?" Bud asked, slightly confused.

Sturgis walked out just then. "Not exactly." He was followed by the man of topic and Jennifer.

"It was horr'ble!" declared Warrant Officer Scoggins.

"He's definitely not keeping quiet," Sturgis observed.

"Awful, - it wouldn't let go!" the drunken man complained.

"… Mishap with a frozen spoon," offered Sturgis as a small explanation.

Harriet's hand flew to her mouth, stifling laughter.

"He's in no shape for driving, but I'll take him home," Commander Turner assured them. "I'm going to drop Coates off too, since this weather is getting so bad."

"Sounds good," said Bud. "Thank you."

Warrant Officer Scoggins took that as a cue. "Thank _you_," he said to Bud. "S'been a wonderful night. …Thank you fer includin' me." Beginning in something drawn out, almost resembling singing, he repeated, "Thank you … very much." It soon turned into a very off key melody. "_Thank you very much, … thank you very much, … 't'sthe nicest thing that anyone's ever done for me. … Thank you … very much_."

Soon, Big Bud came out from the kitchen, and decided to join his drinking partner in song. "_Thank you very much, thank you very much!_" His version didn't have much tune either.

"Yeah, Dad probably shouldn't be driving either tonight," noted Mikey, thankful that his father was in a happy drunken state as opposed to another mood.

"I'll get the other bedroom ready for him to stay," said Harriet. It was good they had extra space in their new house so that Mikey and Big Bud could easily stay over.

"You ready to go, Coates?" Sturgis asked.

"Yes, sir."

They said their goodbyes and began to head out. Warrant Officer Scoggins stumbled in his drunkenness, nearly falling over.

"Whoa," said Sturgis, stabilizing the man. "Take it easy. One step in front of the other."

Jennifer encouraged him as well, "And soon you'll be walking out the door."

------

TBC …

-----

**A/N:** How are you doing with picking up on the classic Christmas references?

Happy Independence Day to my fellow Americans!!!

-- Teacup (of JAG)


	5. Part 5

**Christmas Nigh; Adeste Fi!**

**Part 5**

Arriving at Mac's building, Harm parked down the street a ways. With the roads being plowed, less parking spots were available.

"The snow is really coming down," Mac observed before they got out of the car.

"Yeah," Harm agreed. "Looks like we get a white Christmas this year." They both got out of the car, and Harm opened up the door to the backseat to retrieve the presents he intended to give Mac.

"You know, … it's nice," said Mac, taking in the setting. "Right at Christmas is the one time I actually hope for snow."

"Sure, freezing temperatures, extra car accidents, walkways that need shoveling … Just what everybody wants for Christmas." Harm's sarcasm was light. He actually enjoyed nature's Christmas decoration too, but decided to goad Mac a bit.

Mac rolled her eyes. "Where's your sense of romance, Harm?"

At the use of the word 'romance' Harm's ears perked up, and he gave Mac an odd look.

Mac felt a little embarrassed by her word choice, especially after seeing Harm's reaction. But she decided to explain her usage rather than change her phrasing. "You know, … enjoying the whole imagery and atmosphere attached to special times. … Appreciating how things are … just meant to be."

"I've had only limited success with romance," Harm admitted, "… and that success wasn't really with the atmosphere." Then to bait Mac, he added with exaggerated uncertainty, "… I'm not entirely sure about the imagery."

She bit. "You're not sure?"

Harm closed his car door and then grinned slyly. "My romantic successes almost always took place in the dark."

Mac sighed indignantly. "Having a woman in your bed is _not_ the same as romance," she sternly corrected him.

Harm raised an eyebrow in a look that playfully said, 'really?' To that, Mac remarked, "Typical man; confusing sex with romance. … They're two very different things."

"Mac, most men _do_ consider them to be two _entirely_ different things," Harm said confidently.

At Mac's skeptical look, Harm explained, "_Romance_ is what a man has to go through to get the woman to go to bed with him and have sex."

Harm smiled after he said it, letting Mac know he was being facetious, but that didn't stop her from shooting him a disgusted look. However, she also picked up that he had qualified his remark by speaking of 'most' men. … No one ever said Harmon Rabb was like most men. … Of course, she was also sure he'd made use of those gold wings of his on more than one occasion in the past.

"So, romance is just a means to get sex, the end goal?" she asked for clarification.

"Something like that." At her still disapproving look, Harm added defensively, "…To some guys."

Sensing he had overstepped his boundaries a bit, Harm returned to the original topic of conversation. "So, snow is romantic, huh?"

"At Christmastime, yes. … It's kind of like a miracle from the sky," Mac said with awe and wonder. Then she asked Harm, "… Doesn't it give you a good feeling to have the snow flakes falling on you? To see the clean, white sheet of fluff layered on the ground? Can't you just imagine a horse-drawn sleigh in this kind of scenery? Kids building snowmen in the park? … Snow just feels … Christmassy."

"Christmassy?"

"Yeah. … What word would you use?"

"To describe the feeling of snow?" Harm held up the bag with presents, silently asking her to hold it, which she did. He took off his gloves, leaned over, and picked up a small handful of the crystals. Finally he declared, "Cold."

Mac snickered and rolled her eyes.

But Harm wasn't done. He let some of the substance slide through his fingers and continued, "Soft, but …" He squeezed the snow remaining in his hand into a ball. "… it can be made very firm. … So it's versatile …" He threw the snowball at a nearby street light post, and the projectile splattered apart into chunks. "… and aerodynamic."

Mac just shook her head and turned to start down the partially shoveled sidewalk in the direction of her building.

Harm began to follow, still thinking of descriptive words. "Let's see, … wet, … slippery …" With another step his foot suddenly slid on a patch of ice and he fell, landing entirely prone on his back, with his head in a heap of snow.

A shot of terror ran through Mac that split second when she realized Harm was falling, but was just out of her reach. Then she actually chuckled at the coincidence of the timing between his fall and his reference to 'slippery.'

However, when Harm did not immediately open his eyes or speak, Mac's concern quickly resurfaced. "Harm?"

Harm's body was in shock from the fall, and he didn't feel like he could move at the moment. He could barely hear some muffled sounds, and he couldn't make out any of it. He did register feeling cold. Very cold.

He slowly opened his eyes and saw … an angel. A white, ethereal light glowed around the head above him, as if emanating from this very being. The angel brought with it a strong presence that Harm could feel through and through. It brought him a sense of comfort and warmth that spread through his chest, despite the odd outward chill that had not disappeared.

The angel spoke. But he could not understand what it said. Understand what _she_ said – it was a female angel, he was now sure. He made out something she said about 'good news,' but the rest was muffled.

"… Good news?" he repeated the only words he understood. Good news. Was he in Heaven? Was that the good news?

No, it couldn't be. He clenched his eyes shut tightly for a few seconds and then reopened them, sure that he must not be seeing what he thought. … But the angel was still there. Her presence had not wavered.

Now the angel reached out and touched both sides of his head, and just like that … he could hear clearly again.

He wanted to see the face of his angel, – the glow around her somehow shading her features.

Just then she moved to his side and put one hand behind his head to raise it slightly. As she shifted, light fell on her differently, and he could see the face of her, … the face of his angel, … the face of …

"Sarah?"

Surprised to hear Harm call her given name, Mac concluded, "You _must_ have hit your head."

Harm realized that Mac had been leaning over him and, with the streetlight directly above, she had been backlit, causing the glow around her. That backlight had also caused his inability to see her face.

With a trace of cold and wetness remaining on his ears, he also figured out that Mac had cleared the snow away from his head, freeing his audio receptors.

Harm got himself up just enough to rest on his elbows, and Mac brushed snow off of his head and checked it for damage.

"Well, you're not bleeding," she said. "And I don't see any immediate bumps. But that doesn't rule out the possibility of a concussion. The fact that you seemed out of it for a minute concerns me. Can you see ok?"

"I didn't hit my head," insisted Harm. "… I mean, it doesn't hurt."

"Probably because it's so thick," quipped Mac.

"I landed on a pile of snow. That cushioned the fall."

"You're lucky it's been snowing then."

Harm knew Mac just ribbed him for his earlier complaints about the snow, but he chose to ignore it. His curiosity over what she had been saying to him after he first fell got the better of him. "Did you say something about good news?" he asked.

"You didn't hear me? Are you sure you didn't hurt your head?"

"Yeah, I just had snow in my ears."

Mac laughed. "Well, that's a new one. … But what about your eyes? Because you were looking at me very oddly."

"I was … It's just …" Oh what the heck, he decided to go with honesty. "… you look like an angel."

Though Harm, himself, was embarrassed by his admission, he suddenly noticed the redness on Mac's cheeks, and he wasn't sure if was due to the cold or if she was blushing.

"I, uh, …" Mac was caught by surprise at the comment, but quickly got her mind back on topic. "… I said the good news was that help arrived. They're putting salt down."

Harm followed Mac's gaze to see a big green truck labeled 'King & Family' on the side with a large crown logo. The men who had lain salt on the sidewalk were getting ready to cover the area across the street.

"So," continued Mac, as she rose from her squatting position, "you should be saved from falling to an otherwise certain death as you hazard your way down the rest of the perilous walkway." She was simply being melodramatic now.

"Funny, Mac." As Harm started to get up, Mac smiled and held out her hand to help.

--------

TBC …

---


	6. Part  6

**Christmas Nigh; Adeste Fi!**

**Part 6**

"We'll head to your apartment first, Jen," said Sturgis. "I want to make sure we get you in safe and sound."

"Thank you, sir. Will you be okay with the warrant officer?"

"We'll manage. I might let him stay at my apartment for the night if the weather doesn't get better. And to be honest … it's probably best that he sleep it off before trying to direct me to his house."

"It's nice of you, sir. … Taking both of us home."

"It's not like I have anything else to do tonight," he said.

"You were really good with the warrant officer this evening – talking to him, making him feel welcome."

"How about you?" Sturgis asked Jen, knowing it had been her first day at JAG Headquarters. "Are you feeling welcome? Being in a new place is always tough."

"Well, I'm used to moving around. Taking care of myself. … Colonel MacKenzie has been great. … I guess we bonded some last Christmas. And I know Commander Rabb, of course. But I don't really expect to fit in. I'm kind of a loner anyway."

"Me too," Sturgis reflected. "No family to speak of except my father. I'm still relatively new at Headquarters, … and sometimes I feel like … I haven't quite made my way into the heart of JAG. I'm sort of on the outside looking in, if that makes sense? … Not really fitting in with the … style of the core group."

"So, we're a couple of misfits," Jennifer concluded.

Sturgis laughed. "I guess you could say that. … I'm going to stop at this gas station here. It looks open. I want to fill up my tank – weigh the car down so it'll drive better on these roads."

He pulled into the station that was gleaming with bright lights coming from various advertisements. The overwhelmingly blue neon reflected off the snow.

Before getting out of the car, Sturgis asked, "You doin' alright back there, Warrant Officer?"

"_You'll be doin' alright_," sang Officer Scoggins from the backseat. "… _with your Christmas all white_ …"

"I think he's fine, sir," said Jennifer.

Sturgis left the car and began to top off the gas tank. As he finished, he looked up to see the blue light shining off of the open hood of a car. He squinted though the snow and recognized the confused looking man pondering the contents of the engine area.

He approached the disabled car. "Tiner?" asked Sturgis.

"Sir? … Oh, it's good to see you," breathed Tiner with relief. "… You know about cars, right?"

"I've tinkered around my fair share. What's the problem?"

"Well, …" Tiner paused and took in a huge breath as if getting ready for a long explanation, but then simply conceded, "… I don't know."

"… I was driving, and the car started making this noise …" He imitated the sound, "… Thumpety, thump, thump. … I thought it was just the car adjusting to the cold, but then I heard it again. … Thumpety, thump, thump. Thumpety, thump, thump. … Then my brake warning light came on, and I panicked. ... So when I saw the station I pulled over. I tried to call my friend – whose house I just left. … Turns out I left my cell phone there, so I needed to use the payphone to call him. But he's too drunk to do anything, and I just didn't know what to do …"

Tiner was getting himself quite worked up and was actually whining by this point.

"Petty Officer, calm down," Commander Turner told him. "That's an order."

"Yes, sir. … It's just … when I came back to my car, it wouldn't start."

"So you opened the hood, and that's how I found you. Anything else?" Sturgis asked.

"No, sir. … Yes, sir."

"Which is it, Tiner?"

"Yes, sir. … I was looking under the hood and … well, I got a new watch for Christmas. It's really nice. And really expensive. My mom sent it to me."

"Tiner …" Sturgis said with a tone that told him to move along.

"Right. Well, umm, … I decided to take my watch off, so that it wouldn't get dirty or anything while I tried to find the problem with the car."

"And?"

"And … my hands were cold. You ever notice how when your hands are cold they don't work as well? You have a harder time …"

"Tiner. The watch," Sturgis reminded him.

"I dropped it. … In there." Tiner pointed to the area under the hood. "I don't know where it went. I don't know if it'll jam something up in the car. And my mom will kill me if I don't have that watch in good shape when I see her. … She's coming in to visit late tomorrow."

Sturgis sighed, and took the flashlight from Tiner.

"What does it look like?" he asked.

"It's, um, … stainless steel and gold."

As Sturgis looked for the wristwatch, Jen approached. "Sir, the warrant officer is getting impatient."

"I thought he'd be asleep," admitted Sturgis.

"No such luck," stated Jen.

"Hmm. Well, … speaking of luck, the petty officer over here _is_ fortunate that we happened along when we did."

"Respectfully, sir," replied said petty officer, "If we don't find that watch – I'm not sure I'll consider myself lucky at all when my mom finds out."

"Tiner?" Jen, who hadn't seen him on the other side of the hood, recognized his voice and moved around to see him.

Jason Tiner smiled nervously, but couldn't seem to come up with any words.

Sturgis answered Jen's unspoken questions. "He's having car troubles and accidentally dropped his brand new watch under the hood."

"Mind if I look?" asked Jennifer.

"Not at all," replied Sturgis, handing over the flashlight.

"What color is it?" she inquired.

Tiner finally found his voice. "Gold and steel."

"Steel is silver, … so, silver and gold," she said to herself, and began repeating what she was looking for. "… Silver and gold, … silver and gold, … silver …" Something caught her eye. She reached her hand down. "… and …" Jennifer Coates lifted the watch out from a deep down crevice. "… gold." She held the timepiece in her hand with triumph.

Tiner sighed with relief, and he blurted out, "Thank you _so_ much!" He took the watch from her and, without thinking, gave her a big hug, declaring, "I love you!"

His clenched eyes suddenly popped open as he realized what he said and what he was doing. He quickly released her and awkwardly tried to straighten out her coat, disheveled from his bear hug.

"I'm sorry," he said. "It's just – my mom would've killed me."

"No big deal," Jennifer assured him. "Let's just say I have a lot of past experience spotting shiny things and lifting them."

"So long as that stays in the past," Sturgis told her.

"Is there any chance we could get my car working, sir?" Tiner asked.

Commander Turner shook his head. "In this weather, we don't have the time to mess with it. Driving conditions are getting worse by the minute. Anyway, brake problems aren't something to take lightly. We'll leave the car here; I'll give you a ride."

"That would be great, sir. Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet, Tiner. You have to share the backseat with Warrant Officer Scoggins."

Not knowing who that was, Tiner asked, "That's a bad thing, sir?"

"It remains to be seen, Tiner," was the reply.

Just as the three made their way back to Sturgis' vehicle, they looked up to see a car on the main road lose control and spin out. Fortunately, it was not a major accident, but it easily could have been.

"On second thought," said Sturgis, "if we make it to one place it's probably best to stay put. … My apartment is not far, if you don't mind? I was going to have the warrant officer crash at my place anyhow."

"That's fine with me," answered Tiner. "Thank you, sir. I'm not sure what I'd have done if you hadn't come along. … I'm kinda by myself."

"Come along," invited Sturgis, opening the back door for Tiner. "Join our merry band of misfits."

Then Sturgis turned to Jennifer. "Coates, I had hoped to get you home, considering …"

"It's okay, sir," she interrupted, knowing what he was trying to say. "I've spent plenty of time being the only woman who's crashed somewhere for the night."

Commander Turner was hesitant. "Still …"

"Sir, I hardly think we can worry about the appearance of impropriety under the circumstances," Coates assured him. "Plus, there are three of you – so it's not like I'd be alone with any one man here. … I mean, I can take care of myself, and I don't believe any of you would try anything," she clarified, "… but for appearances sake, you're all there to keep an eye on each other."

"It doesn't appear we have much choice now," Sturgis admitted. "… You make a good case though."

"She sure does …" agreed a starry eyed Tiner.

---------

TBC …

----

A/N: Thanks to those who have left reviews so far. Is anybody actually making a list of Christmas references? If so, you hopefully picked up a few more in this part. Hope you're having fun with this story.

-- Teacup


	7. Part 7

**Christmas Nigh; Adeste Fi!**

**Part 7**

"You're sure you don't want some ice or something for your head?"

"Mac, don't mention 'ice,'" complained Harm. "That's what caused this problem in the first place."

Mac silently chuckled at his joking reference to the frozen patch on the sidewalk that he had slipped on.

"Plus," Harm added, "my head's fine."

"And here I was about to offer to kiss it and make it better," Mac flirted.

Harm responded with a grin. "I kinda wish it did hurt now."

Damn that sultry look he was giving her, thought Mac. It wasn't fair what those eyes of his could make her want. … No, she wasn't thinking about that.

Getting serious and showing her concern, Mac noted, "That was quite a fall you took. I'm surprised you _don't_ hurt."

"I didn't say that I don't hurt, … just not my head." Harm grimaced a bit and rubbed his hand against the side of his rear for just a second. "I think my butt took the brunt of the fall."

This made Mac laugh. "Nice try, Commander."

Harm gave her a confused look. He had been entirely serious. His tailbone hurt.

But Mac didn't stop smiling. "I'm sure you've always wanted me to kiss your butt … However, I never have, and I'm not about to start now."

Ah, yes, her earlier offer to kiss it and make it better. Harm rolled his eyes, even as he thought that the only place he really wanted her lips right now was over his own.

"How about some hot chocolate?" Mac offered.

"Uh, yeah. That'd be great."

"Okay, I'll just heat some water. You wanna plug the tree in? The outlet is around the back of it."

"Sure."

Mac went to the kitchen, while Harm lit the tree up and placed the presents he had brought underneath. Mac's tree was nothing like his own. Hers was brilliantly decorated with beautiful ornaments and was just breathtaking. Like her, he thought. Harm noticed something at the base of the tree while he was laying out the gifts.

He called to her in the kitchen, "Hey, is this Nativity set new?"

Mac yelled back, "Yeah. You like it?"

"It's nice. Was it a gift?"

Mac smiled, before calling her reply, "To myself."

Harm appeared at the kitchen entrance. "Ah, … one of those."

Mac caught a quick glimpse of Harm and his teasing expression over her shoulder. Then she went back to setting cookies out on a platter, while explaining, "Sometimes you can't risk waiting for someone else to figure out what you want and take the initiative to work out how to give it to you. … Why waste an opportunity, when what you really want is right in front of you? … I saw it, and I fell in love with its depiction of the Holy Family, … so I got it for myself."

Having finished putting the plate of cookies together, Mac got out her hot chocolate mixes. She had been given the box of cocoa as a gift, so she was just now familiarizing herself with the flavor variations. Still reading the packages in her hands, Mac turned to ask Harm which he preferred.

Because Mac had her eyes on the packages and had turned very abruptly, she ran smack into a wall … of Harm.

She hadn't expected him to be so close. He had been in the kitchen doorway the last time she looked.

But while Mac had been speaking, something had caught Harm's eye, and he had moved into the kitchen to get a closer look. He was so fixed on the item above that he was not paying enough attention to anticipate Mac's sudden about-face.

Knocking into Harm, Mac nearly lost her balance. "Whoa," Harm said as he instinctively grabbed onto her, steadying both of them.

"Sorry," murmured Mac.

"Don't be," answered Harm, just as quietly. He was still holding onto her, and as her eyes ventured up, they met his. And what she saw excited her and scared her. Oh, what her imagination was doing right now with that look he was giving her … and the feel of his hands grasping her … gently, but so securely.

Mac managed to somewhat bring herself back to reality. "I … um … was going to ask which kind you wanted." She held up the cocoa packages.

Harm took the packets from her with one hand, without removing his other from where it rested on her upper arm.

"This one," he softly declared, turning the stack to show Mac the one on top. Then, instead of handing them back to her, Harm tossed the packages on the counter and replaced his hand on Mac's other arm.

"Um, …" he began nervously. Deciding against words at the moment, he looked up at the sprig of green hanging from the light fixture above, … at the very object that had caught his attention in the first place.

Mac looked up too and realized what he had seen. Given what she wanted, she was unsure why she protested, even without conviction, "It's just a decoration."

At Harm's confused expression, Mac started to add, "I mean, … it's not really …"

Harm cut in, "Are you trying to get out of kissing me?"

Mac shook her head, smiling shyly. "No, …"

"It's tradition, isn't it?" he pointed out.

"Yeah, it's just that … ," Mac berated herself even as she spoke, but something in her wanted to give him the 'out' that existed before he kissed her, " … _technically_ …"

"Technically?" Harm interrupted. "There is no _technically_, … no fine print when it comes to mistletoe, Mac, … so … it doesn't matter if it's fake, or if you were the one to hang it, or whatever exception you're thinking there might be. … The only 'clause' that's written into Christmas tradition … is Santa."

Mac smiled at Harm's pun, but she still hesitated as if she was considering saying something.

"Are you going to tell me what number awkward moment this is?" Harm asked, remembering the comment she had made right before they had shared a quick kiss under the mistletoe at Bud's and Harriet's apartment one year ago.

"That's not what I was _going_ to say," Mac indicated in her tone that such an observation would, however, be true.

"But this _is_ an awkward moment?" Harm had picked up on her inflection.

"Yes," she confirmed in a dreamy sort of state, being affected by his closeness.

"Why is that?" he asked softly.

Mac was quickly losing herself in his eyes and his tightening embrace. "Because it's a kiss, … and I'm not sure where you and I stand," she tried to explain.

"Currently, … under the mistletoe," Harm said with a slight grin. But then he acknowledged being aware that she referred to the status of their relationship. "… I know," he said, indicating that he understood her meaning. He was also quickly losing himself in her gaze.

Mac continued giving rationale for the awkwardness, "We work together, … and we're best friends, …"

Harm was leaning in now, and the closer his face came to hers, the less she could think to censor herself.

"… and … I want this much more than just a best friend should," she finished.

Harm gently put his hand on the side of her face, caressing her cheek. "I want this too, Sarah."

A moment later they came together in a kiss. It was a simple kiss, yet far more intimate and much longer than the one they shared under the mistletoe the year before. This was not a stolen moment at someone else's home. And there was no one waiting for them tonight.

When the kiss ended, neither one moved. They opened their eyes and stared at each other in a daze, … not wanting the closeness to end.

As far as Mac was concerned, not yet thinking about the possible implications of anything, that kiss was the best Christmas present ever.

Harm decided right then and there that it would _not_ be a whole nother year before he kissed Mac again. He wondered if she had any other mistletoe hanging up. He would draw on every bit of military recon knowledge that he had to find out where and then somehow maneuver the two of them under it.

But then Harm realized that … Mac had not yet stepped away. At that, hope filled his heart. "Mac."

"Yeah?"

"You know, if neither one of us moves, … we're still under the mistletoe, … so I'll have to insist that we kiss again."

As soon as he heard himself speak, he regretted it. It was a stupid thing to utter. It was a prompt to shake her out of the trance she'd been in, and then she would leave his arms.

But Harm did not have to worry long. Mac grinned a little, but her eyes didn't break out of the haze they were in. The moment had not been broken after all.

"If you insist," she whispered.

Their lips sought each other out and joined in a new kiss that was anything but simple. It was passion ignited. It was exploratory; perhaps not just a single kiss even, as their mouths interacted, giving and taking, feeling and enjoying.

The kiss spoke of their yearning for more … but it was not just desire that pulsed through them. As intense as this was, it was not hurried, animalistic lust. Though urgent, it was slow, and thorough, and loving.

They had drawn each other closer in the process. Harm's left arm wrapped around Mac's waist, pulling her against him, nearly lifting her off the ground while his right hand splayed across her back … and neck … and back.

While they kissed, Mac worked her hand upward, brushing her fingers through Harm's hair and gently keeping his head pressed to hers. She managed to thread her other arm under Harm's, hooking that hand around back and up onto his shoulder.

Eventually, they did separate. Mac kept her eyes closed for a moment, savoring the experience. When she finally opened her eyes … panic suddenly hit her. Sheer panic.

----

TBC …


	8. Part 8

**Christmas Nigh; Adeste Fi!**

_From Part 7:_ _While they kissed, Mac worked her hand upward, brushing her fingers through Harm's hair and gently keeping his head pressed to hers. She managed to thread her other arm under Harm's, hooking that hand around back and up onto his shoulder._

_Eventually, they did separate. Mac kept her eyes closed for a moment, savoring the experience. When she finally opened her eyes … panic suddenly hit her. Sheer panic._

**Part 8**

She blinked her eyes and opened them wide … but she was blind! She couldn't see a thing. Mac had finally been kissed by Harm the way she had always dreamed, … better than she had dreamed, and the power of it made her go blind!

She should have known he could do something like that to her. It had to be temporary though, right?

But in the meantime, how was she going to interact with Harm? After what they just shared, she was sure Harm would be searching her eyes, just as she wanted to meet his. But she literally couldn't look at him … How would he interpret that? … Probably that she was regretful.

To delay giving that impression, Mac put her head against his chest, hugging him to her. The action doubled as both a way to reassure Harm and a way to safely wait for her vision to return.

She intimately felt the rise and fall of Harm's strong torso, caused by his still jagged breathing. She could hear and feel his heart hammering away in his chest. She closed her eyes again, hoping that she would have sight when she reopened them, - reveling in this feeling in the meantime.

A moment later, Harm spoke. "Mac?"

Leaving her head firmly against him, Mac opened her eyes. To her dismay, everything still appeared dark.

"Yeah?" she replied nervously.

"Um, …" Harm tentatively observed, "… I think your power went out."

A power outage? Mac's head popped up, and as she let her eyes adjust, she realized that she was able to make out shadows. Turning her head to the window, she saw evidence of a light in the distance. She _could_ see!

Mac laughed, releasing the tension. "You think?" Her sarcasm, which made it sound as if Harm had just stated the obvious, covered the embarrassment of her own stupidity. Harm didn't need to know what she had thought happened.

Unbeknownst to her, Harm had gone through the same panicked thought process when he opened his eyes to the darkness. He had been grateful that Mac had put her head against him so that she wouldn't see his lost gaze. Of course, had his heart not already been beating wildly, Mac would surely have noticed a sudden increase in heart rate accompanying his alarm. He had not felt so frustrated with his lack of sight since the night blindness before his eye surgery.

But, while Mac had closed her eyes in hopes that doing so would somehow automatically reset her vision, Harm had strained his eyes until he made out enough to figure out what had happened.

It was incredibly black in the apartment, with little outside light due to the precipitating clouds covering the moon and the powerless streetlights nearby.

"I guess I should get some candles," Mac finally said.

Now it was Harm's turn to make fun of her for stating the obvious, which he did with his own nervous chuckle. "Yeah, that would _probably_ be a good idea."

They reluctantly loosened their holds on each other, and Mac slid out of Harm's touch.

She stepped away to get the candles. Thunk!

"Ow!!" Mac had run into the edge of her kitchen counter. "Damn it!" she cursed. Even in the dark, she should know her own apartment inside out. She knew her clumsiness was a direct result of that kiss. Her brain had not yet recovered.

"You okay?" asked Harm.

"Yeah. … Just … feeling stupid."

"Why stupid? You just need some light," he said, though secretly he enjoyed the possibility that he had thrown Mac's senses off just as much as she had thrown off his.

"Oh, wait …" Harm had an idea, and he dug into his pocket. "Here we go," he declared as he pulled a keychain out and pushed a button.

A small dot of red light came on that would normally never be used for serious illumination. However, in the pitch black darkness, the little light spread enough to show the major outlines of the nearby kitchen area.

Mac laughed. "Did you steal that from little AJ?" It was indeed the Rudolph keychain that AJ had been playing with earlier at the dinner table. Harm had made the nose light up.

"No," Harm defended himself. "He gave it to me. … 'Cause Rudolph flies … like I do." Harm offered Mac the toy. "Here, take it."

Mac reached out to take the reindeer with the glowing nose from Harm. When their hands touched, they lingered, but Mac did pull away when she realized she was shaking. "Um, … thanks," she said.

Using the light, Mac turned to the cupboard storing the candles and lighter.

Harm, trying to gain his composure by distracting himself, spoke. He did not entirely manage to keep the quiver out of his voice though. "You know what probably caused this power outage, don't you?"

Mac's immediate thought was, 'A surge due to the electrically charged, explosively powerful kiss we just shared?' But she refrained from saying that. Was this not affecting Harm the way it was her?

"No," was the response Mac opted for.

"I'm sure it's the result of the lovely Christmas weather outside."

"Could be," she admitted.

"Probably someone driving slid on the ice and knocked over a utility pole."

"I hope not," she responded, not wanting to think about someone getting hurt. "Probably just icy power lines. Or maybe the wind knocked something over. … Or maybe it's just a temporary glitch and the juice will come back in a minute."

"Doubtful," Harm remarked regarding her last comment.

Mac lit the candles and then turned to face Harm. The moment, … whatever it was between them, had now certainly been broken, and she wasn't sure what to do.

"Uhh, … the water should have gotten pretty hot before the power went off. … You still want that cocoa?" she offered.

"Yeah, … I would like that."

Mac was grateful for his response and quickly set about getting the cups out. Meanwhile, Harm fidgeted, … feeling very antsy. He needed something to do.

"Hey, while you do that, how about I start the fireplace going? Give us some better light to open up presents by."

"Yeah. That sounds nice. … Plus, with no electricity, my apartment's got no heat, so it could get pretty cold in here without a fire."

"Great," said Harm. "I'll do that then."

--------

"Here we are," announced Sturgis at his apartment.

"I think I'm gonna be sick," Warrant Officer Scoggins groaned. He certainly looked unwell.

"Let's get you to the bathroom then." Sturgis led Scoggins to the toilet, leaving Coates and Tiner in the living room.

There was an awkward period of silence before Tiner finally decided to speak. "Well, I guess we're spending the night together. Well, not _together_, together, but … in the same place together. … I mean …"

"I know what you mean, Tiner," Jen assured him.

"Please, … call me Jason."

"Okay, … Jason."

Sturgis reentered the room. "While the warrant officer is … occupying himself, why don't we work out the sleeping arrangements. … Unfortunately, I only have one bedroom. … Coates, I think you should take it. You can close the door for privacy."

"But, sir …" she began to object.

"Coates," Commander Turner warned her in his commanding voice and with a stern look.

"Yes, sir," Jennifer relented.

"Good. Tiner, you can have the couch."

The petty officer was surprised. "Me, sir?"

"The warrant officer can have the floor. He's either going to be passed out beyond any notions of comfort or he'll be feeling so bad that what he's sleeping on isn't going to make a difference," said Sturgis.

"He's pretty ill, isn't he, sir?" asked Jen.

Hearing the retching from the other room, Sturgis responded, "Worse than a seasick crocodile."

They could hear Scoggins moaning from the bathroom, "Oh, make it stop!"

"Given the choice between the two of them," said Jennifer, "I'd take the seasick crocodile. At least that one wouldn't complain."

Both of the men in the living room chuckled at that, before Sturgis resumed the original conversation. He assured Tiner, "I'll be fine on the floor too. So you take the couch."

"But, sir," Tiner objected, getting ready to insist that Commander Turner stay on his own couch.

Again, Sturgis wouldn't hear of it. "Tiner, … I'm a submariner. … Sometimes I like to be on the lowest level possible." With that settled, he went to get whatever blankets, sleeping bags, and pillows he could find.

The toilet flushed, and a minute later Warrant Officer Scoggins stumbled out. "Oh, my head," he complained. "'ts'all my wife's fault."

"I thought you were divorced?" asked Jen, not quite having heard the whole story of the warrant officer's background.

"Exactly!" Scoggins said. "… And my son's with her." Suddenly, he got fired up with determination and spite. "… But I'm showing them! … I'm having a _great _Christmas!" he declared, sapping his energy. Feeling sick, weak, and tired, Scoggins, gave in to his feeling of weariness, and laid himself down on the floor.

Sturgis came back out with stuff for bedding down. "Alright," he started, right before spotting the warrant officer on the floor. "I see you've chosen your spot," he said to Scoggins. "I've got a blanket for you." Sturgis draped the blanket over the prone man. "… And a pillow. … I need you to lift your head."

The man did not move.

"Head up, Warrant Officer," Sturgis ordered.

Scoggins complied. "You know," he mumbled before putting his head back down on the pillow, "I didn't want to be a warrant officer."

"Really?" Sturgis humored the man.

"No, my dad wanted me to be the Navy." In a deep voice, he imitated his father, "'It's what the Scoggins men are meant to do,' he used to say. … But you know what I really wann'ed do?"

"What's that?" Sturgis asked.

"Be a dentist," the warrant officer admitted.

Jennifer couldn't help but giggle at that just a little.

"No, … really," insisted the drunken man.

Tiner pointed out, "You could have been a dentist for the Navy."

"No! No, … no. The kind that makes lots of money … Just tell people to brush their teeth … put in a filling or two. … My life would be better with money."

"I doubt money is the answer," said Sturgis.

Just then, Tiner dropped his car keys, which he had been nervously fidgeting with.

At the jangling sound, the warrant officer gasped and suddenly looked terrified. "You're right! …" He looked desperately at the man kneeling above him, clenched onto Sturgis' sleeve, and said, "Tell Marley … I know … I'll be good. … Not greedy." Scoggins was getting very sleepy and let his hand drop. "… not … stingy …" He drifted off.

"Okay, then," said Sturgis, not sure what that was all about.

----------

A/N: Thanks to those leaving feedback, even if it is to tell me I am evil (which I'm taking as a backhanded compliment that you are interested in the story). I meant to post this sooner, given the cliffie, but I'm recovering from a trip to the ER last night. I'm ok now, mostly just tired and a bit woozy.

--Teacup


	9. Part 9

**Christmas Nigh; Adeste Fi!**

**Part 9**

Harm had taken one of the candles and went into Mac's living room to start the fire. He was trying to emotionally collect himself. He didn't know what to do about Mac. That last kiss had been more than amazing. It had floored him, almost literally.

Yet, what did it mean for him and Mac? After those kisses they just shared in the kitchen, he couldn't deny that he loved her. Actually, he wouldn't have been able to deny that he was in love with her before those kisses. However, he now really wanted to do something about it!

But he wasn't sure about Mac. What she had said about wanting him more than just a best friend should; … did that mean that she was interested in a relationship with him? … Or was she just referring to wanting to kiss him?

Those kisses. Those astounding, glorious kisses. He'd never experienced anything close to that last kiss before. It felt like Sarah was … _truly_ loving him, but maybe he was just projecting his own wishful thinking. Maybe Mac just got caught up in the heat of the moment and now wanted to forget it. Maybe she just hadn't been kissed in awhile and was using that moment to indulge herself.

… While he did not want that last possibility to be the case as to her motive, he did find himself hoping that she had not been kissed by anyone else recently.

He had gotten the fire started and was busy making some adjustments to keep it going stronger when Mac walked in carrying two mugs of cocoa.

"Mmm," Mac responded to the new warmth and atmosphere. "Nothing like a good fire when it's snowing."

Harm turned to her, forgetting what he had been doing and, instead, found himself analyzing her features in the flickering glow of light.

"Don't stop," Mac chastised Harm with a smile, reminding him that he needed to finish up with the fire.

"Right," he turned back to his task.

Mac scanned the room. "Where do you want to sit? … So I know where to put the cocoa."

"We should probably be as close to the fire as possible. You mind sitting on the floor?"

"No. … _I_ don't," she answered, "but doesn't your six hurt?"

Harm wanted to say that her kiss had cured any ailments he had, could have had, or might have in the near future, … except perhaps the ever aching of his heart that longed for more. "I'll be fine."

"Okay. … We could move the coffee table over," she said.

"I got it," said Harm, jumping up, since Mac had her hands full.

"Maybe put it on the side?" she recommended.

Harm moved it over. "There?"

"Yeah." Mac set the drinks down once Harm had moved the table. "Oh, that feels good," she said, referring to the fire again. "The rest of this place is going to get very cold, very quickly."

"Hey, why don't you help me move the couch closer?" Harm suggested.

"Floor not comfy enough for you after all?"

"The floor is fine," said Harm. "I just thought if we pulled the couch up, we could lean against it."

"Okay." When they finished moving the furniture, Mac asked, "You mind if I change clothes real quick?" She was still in the dress she'd been wearing all evening.

"Go ahead," said Harm. "Get comfy. … Change into your nice, warm pajamas," he said with a smile.

"I think I will." Mac took the flashlight that she had gotten from the kitchen and went into the bedroom.

Harm was left alone, feeling oddly nervous. He shouldn't be; … this was Mac, … good ol' Mac, his best friend, the woman he loved … Oh, that didn't help. He moved the presents from under the tree to by the fireplace. Mac had put his gifts under the tree as well, so he brought those over too. He found himself shaking one of the boxes, curious about what was inside.

"You know that _might_ be breakable."

Harm looked up to see Mac playfully glaring at him. He was relieved for a moment to see her wardrobe choice, because he had half expected her to be wearing some tempting nightgown, the sight of which would torture him all evening. But she did come out in pajamas. On second thought, he wasn't sure this would be much better.

Not that the PJs, by themselves, would be considered sexy by any means. They were flannel, – dark green with a pattern of little teddy bears wearing Santa hats. The material looked warm, and soft, and touchable, … especially on her.

Harm had always enjoyed seeing Mac in her night clothes. Something about it made her seem more … vulnerable, … but not in a bad way. It was just like he was seeing more of her person, … not the Marine, or the lawyer, or even the woman who needed to be cautious and confident to operate in this world. This was just … Mac.

Of course, the knowledge that she was not wearing a bra on in his presence was, um, … a pleasant thought for him as well. One he now tried to ignore as this was no oversized set of PJs. They fit her snuggly, good for keeping her warm, but bad for Harm to keep his mind off of some of Mac's physical qualities.

Harm gave Mac a guilty grin, ostensibly for shaking the package, but probably more for what was running through his … mind at the moment. He quickly diverted his eyes.

Mac smiled. She'd seen him look her over, … and she liked it. If she could get that kind of response in teddy bear PJs, imagine what his response would be to her in a teddy, minus the bears and pajamas.

She rebuked herself for thinking such things. Harm was a man; his looking her over was a natural response. It didn't mean anything. The kisses earlier didn't necessarily mean anything either. Again, Harm was a man. Men liked kissing women. He had probably just let things get out of hand. Every once in awhile he was bound to lose just a little of his iron control.

Still, she was going to savor the experiences this evening. And … it did give her some hope. It made her feel good that Harm did sometimes see her as a woman. He may not be in love with her, he may only care about her as a good, platonic friend, even deep down, … but it was good to know that he wasn't entirely indifferent to the fact that she was a member of the opposite sex.

In Mac's left hand, she was holding a blanket. Harm finally noticed that when he looked back at her. "Fire not warm enough for you?" he asked.

"You know I get cold easily. And I'm gonna need the blanket for sleeping on the couch tonight anyway. Of course, if the power doesn't come back on, I'll need to dig out my extra warm fuzzy blanket as well."

Harm looked confused. "Why would you be sleeping out here? … If you're seeking the heat, you know you really shouldn't go to sleep with the fire going, right?"

"I know, but I expect you'll be more comfortable in the bed," she explained. At Harm's now surprised expression, Mac realized he hadn't considered it. "You are staying here, right?" she asked with concern. "I mean the weather's gotten worse."

"Mac, I've got an SUV."

"Which doesn't matter on ice. … And some of the roads, much like sidewalks, _are_ icy." Making up her mind to draw a hard line on this, she stated, "I'm not letting you out again in this weather."

"You're not letting me?"

"No, I'm not."

"Mac, I'm sure the roads are –"

"… a mess," she finished. "… What's wrong, Harm?" Mac teased, "You afraid Santa won't find you if you aren't at home tonight?"

"I'm not really expecting a visit from Santa this year, but –"

"… You're expecting someone else," Mac finished. She finally sat down – but only on the couch near Harm, not next to him on the floor. "I'm sorry, Harm. If I'd known you were having company for tomorrow, I would have just asked you to drop me off earlier. We could have exchanged gifts later."

"No," Harm corrected her. "I'm not expecting anyone. I was just going to say that you shouldn't have to sleep on the couch …"

"I don't mind," said Mac, relieved for some reason that Harm wasn't expecting company. "You won't fit on this," she referred to the sofa, "and you need to sleep here somewhere."

"We'll see," said Harm, not quite conceding to spend the night. "Now, would you get down here already?"

Sliding down next to Harm, Mac insisted, "I'm serious, Harm. Have you looked outside? Visibility is practically non-existent." Though it was dark with the power out nearby, a strained look would reveal only a thick, white blur, obstructing most everything else. "You're staying put 'til morning," she declared.

Harm made a face of displeasure.

"What?" she asked, "You have a problem with my bed cooties?" Mac had remembered the earlier 'cootie' comments at his apartment. She assured him, "I'll give you a fresh pillow case; fresh sheets if you want, though I'm really not that dirty …"

"It's not that," Harm told her.

"Then what?"

"… I don't have any pajamas with me," he teased, using her earlier excuse.

At that, Mac smiled and, without thinking, asked, "You sleep in pajamas?" Realizing that didn't sound like an appropriate question, she tried to explain the context, " … I mean … I just … You've been in just boxers before …"

He saved her. "When it's really cold, … yes, I use PJs, … or at least sweat pants and a shirt. Actually, if I'm staying, I should probably go get my bag from the car. I think I've got some sweats in there. … Though, I'm not looking forward to trekking out to the car and back in this weather."

"You don't have to," said Mac.

"I guess I could just sleep in my clothes," Harm started to say, assuming that was what Mac meant.

"That won't be comfortable," Mac pointed out.

"Yeah, but …" Harm debated with himself, knowing how bad it was outside. "… I should go … I can weather the storm. After all, I don't want you to start calling me a -"

Mac suddenly reached over and touched Harm's arm, causing him to pause before finishing his sentence.

"… baby."

"It's cold outside."

Harm laughed at Mac's statement of the obvious. "I know," he said. "And _you_ are cold in here, so bundle up all nice and cozy by the fire, … and I'll go get my bag."

"You'll freeze out there," she warned.

"Nah, I'll be alright," Harm insisted, even though he did dread going out.

"Harm, I'll make sure you've got something to wear. You don't have to go outside."

"Mac, I doubt I'm going to fit in any of your sweats, … or PJ bottoms. I'm a little tall."

"Really? I hadn't noticed," Mac teased. Then she continued, still joking, "And I was going to let you borrow the cowboy jammies, since you like them so much."

"Ha," laughed Harm. "… They won't fit."

"I know," Mac said seriously. "But you'll have something that fits you, I promise."

Harm didn't know how that could be unless she had something left over from Bugme or some other guy. And he definitely did not want to wear anything from some man who had been in Mac's … life.

"Maybe we should just exchange gifts, and then I'll go home," he suggested. "That way I only have to walk one way in this stuff."

"You really don't want to stay here, do you?" Mac realized. She was actually hurt by that. Did something about her place offend him? Did she make him that uncomfortable? Was she not a good hostess?

"Yes, I do," he said.

"Then what's the sense in hurting my pride?"

"_Your_ pride?" Harm questioned. "You're the one who doesn't have faith in my ability to drive."

"Don't question my faith in you," she insisted.

"Then, am I allowed to go home tonight?"

"The answer is no."

"See."

"Harm, the weather is bad. Why chance it, when accidents happen? … Like slipping on the sidewalk," she reminded him of his earlier fall. "No matter what you think, you're not invincible, Harm. … And I'm still not sure you didn't hurt your head."

"My head's fine," he countered. "And _okay_, I'll stay," he relented. "But I should get my bag." He stood up as he said the last part.

"You really want to go out there?"

"No. … It's cold outside."

"Then stay. Your hot chocolate isn't going to be even warm much longer. Finish your drink."

"Say, … what's in this drink, anyway?" He'd had a few sips already and found that it had an odd flavor.

"Irish cream," answered Mac. At Harm's look, obviously questioning her possession of alcohol, Mac explained, "It's just flavoring. And I'm not having that kind anyhow." She had given him his choice of the flavors in her gift pack and reminded him of that. "You picked it."

"Oh," said Harm. He now remembered that she had asked which kind he wanted. He hadn't really read the package, since at the time, all he wanted to do was kiss her under the mistletoe.

"Harm," Mac ordered, "sit."

He obeyed, but whined to himself about having to stay without a toothbrush.

"I've got a spare," Mac told him.

"Lend me a comb?"

"Sure."

"Okay."

"So, you're not going to go out anymore?"

"I _would_," Harm insisted, "… but it's cold outside."

--------

TBC …

----

A/N: I tried posting this part earlier, but the site wasn't cooperating this morning.

Bonus points if you picked up on the past HBX challenge lines in this part.

I appreciate the feedback (and the well wishes regarding my trip to the ER. I am much better – thank you). If you're kind and review today, I'll consider it a birthday present. :0)

-- Teacup


	10. Part 10

**Christmas Nigh; Adeste Fi!**

**Part 10**

The stranded 'misfits' got settled in for the night at Sturgis' apartment. After Tiner had used the bathroom he noticed that, even though the bedroom door was closed, the light was still on.

He walked to the door and stood in front of it, summoning the courage to knock. He changed his mind, turned, and walked away. Then he stopped, and came back. Finally, he rapped his knuckles against the door.

A moment later, Jennifer appeared in front of him.

"Hi," Tiner managed to get out.

"Hi," Jen responded and looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to tell her why he had knocked. When he did not speak, she finally asked, "… Did you want something?"

"Oh, … um, I … just wanted to thank you for getting my watch out of the car."

"No big deal," Jennifer assured him.

"Um … okay. Good night then."

"Good night, … Jason."

Tiner smiled, excited that she used his first name. "Good night, Jennifer," he replied. Realizing that she had not told him to use her name, he quickly checked, "Can I call you that?"

"Yes, Jason, you can."

"Hey, our names both start with 'J.'"

"Yeah, they do." Jennifer smiled at him, thinking he was cute, … in a sort of childlike way. But at the same time, she was also giving him the 'Is there anything else?' look.

Tiner concluded he should let her be. "Okay …" He started to step away.

"Jason," Coates called after him. When he turned back, Jennifer stepped out to him, reached up, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Merry Christmas," she said.

Tiner was stunned speechless. Jen had stepped back into the bedroom and was about to close the door when she noticed him starting to wander off in the direction of the closet where she had seen Sturgis get the towels from earlier.

"Tiner!" she snapped him out of his daze, and he looked back at her. "… The living room is the other way," she pointed out.

He smiled shyly. "I knew that."

**-----------**

"We ready to open presents?" asked Mac, now that she had gotten Harm to agree to stay put.

After she asked the question, she couldn't help but notice how Harm's expression suddenly became serious. He looked at her. It was _that_ look. The deep look he gave her when they were sharing an intimate, serious moment, … like when one of them was leaving JAG or when he comforted her about some major disaster in her life.

… It was the look that he had given her on the Admiral's porch, when he told her that he saw a desirable woman; the look that preceded the kiss that night, and then again before each kiss tonight. … The look that told her something important was going on in his head. She didn't exactly know what it meant, but it made her feel as if he was examining her, was scared of her, was intrigued by her, and was repressing some kind of longing all at the same time.

"What?" Mac questioned Harm's expression, feeling somewhat excited, but mostly anxious. Her temperature was rising, and it had nothing to do with the fire she sat by.

"About earlier," started Harm nervously, "… in the kitchen …"

"Harm, don't," Mac interrupted, her eyes begging him to stop.

"Don't?" he repeated. He was confused by what she was thinking. 'Don't what?' he wondered. It was clear she understood he was referring to the kisses. What did she expect him to say that she didn't want to hear?

She soon told him. "Don't apologize, or analyze, or try to make this a serious topic of discussion. … Not tonight."

"Not tonight?"

Mac was beginning to wonder if there was an echo in there.

"It's Christmas Eve, … and I'm … _really_ enjoying it, … spending it with you," she told him. "… I don't want to ruin that. Can't we just …"

"I won't pretend it didn't happen," Harm interrupted, objecting to what he assumed she was about to suggest. He would never be able to forget about the kisses they shared tonight, … and he would never want to.

"I was going to say 'open presents.'" Mac clarified, before taking a deep breath and addressing his last statement. "… Harm, I don't want to pretend it didn't happen. … I just don't want to get hurt," she admitted. "… Not tonight." That was a little more honest than she had intended to be, but it had slipped out.

"You think I'd hurt you?" he asked with surprise, feeling a bit offended that she thought that of him.

"Not intentionally," she assured him.

Harm was about to reply, but Mac stopped him.

"Harm, this is exactly what I don't want right now." She was referring to the sudden tension accompanying this topic. "Let's just enjoy the moments that tonight has to offer. Please."

After he thought about it, he did understand what she was doing. She wasn't making any statements about him or them. She just wanted to have a fun, relaxing Christmas Eve, with no extra stress. She obviously thought it was better to just enjoy each other's company than to stir up trouble.

He wasn't sure he agreed because he thought they just might make some progress. But her eyes were begging again, and Harm could not resist complying.

"Alright," he conceded. "So," he double checked, "you _are_ enjoying tonight so far?"

"I am," she answered, relieved that he was letting things go for now. She so wanted to enjoy this rare treat of spending time with Harm, with no work, and knowing he wouldn't be having to leave anytime soon.

"Me too." Harm smiled at her. Honestly, he couldn't think of a place he'd rather be.

"Good," said Mac. "Now, … open this present first." She handed him the package that he'd been shaking earlier.

Harm opened it up and laughed, now understanding Mac's earlier insistence that he'd have something to wear that would fit him. He pulled out a pair of flannel PJ pants. They were navy blue and complete with a pattern of various kinds of airplanes.

"I didn't know if you'd ever wear them," said Mac, "but I couldn't resist when I saw them for someone your size. … I guess it was fortunate, since now you have something to wear tonight."

"They're great, Mac. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Looking through the tissue paper in the box, Harm confirmed that there was nothing else in there. "No top?" he asked.

"Uh, … I had a hard time picturing you in that," Mac admitted.

For some reason, Harm liked the idea that Mac was 'picturing' him. And she had imagined him without the top? Even better.

Instead of commenting on that thought, he kindly challenged, "What, then, am I supposed to use to keep the rest of my body warm on such a cold night?"

Mac's immediate impulse was to volunteer herself for the job, but she managed to refrain.

"I do have some really big sweatshirts. One of those should fit you."

"Alright," he agreed. "Thanks again, Mac. I was getting jealous of your jammies. … They look comfortable."

Okay, so he was actually envious of the PJs themselves, hugging her body, more than he was jealous of her _having_ pajamas. But she didn't need to know that.

"You wanted teddy bears?" Mac teased, pretending he meant the pattern she was currently wearing.

"_No_, … the planes are great," he clarified, laughing a little at the thought of himself in teddy bears. "… Those PJs suit _you_ though," he pointed out. "… Marine green … and easy on the eyes." His own eyes scanned her over again, but as he caught himself, he added, "… The teddy bears, that is."

"Oh, and I'm not?" Mac took mock offense at his correction.

"You're more than easy on the eyes, Mac," he straightforwardly assured her.

Mac was stunned. "I'm not sure, … but I think that was a compliment."

"It was. You're a beautiful woman."

Again, that came out so easily from Harm. Mac was now entirely dumbstruck. But finally she reached out and pinched Harm's cheek. "Harm?"

"Hey, what are you doing?" he objected.

"Making sure it's you." Mac removed her hand now.

Harm's eyebrows furrowed. "You don't believe I think you're beautiful?"

"… I … didn't think I was your type," she admitted.

"My type?"

He was echoing again. And she was scared this might become a serious conversation. "Never mind. … Here, open this one." She handed him another present.

Harm let the topic go because he didn't want to upset her. But he put the present back down, saying, "No, it's your turn to open something."

"I already opened the picture you left for me. … Thank you, by the way."

"It's a good photo," he said.

"It is," she agreed.

He admitted, "One of my all time favorites, I think. … I wanted you to have it. Figured you might have been looking for something like it."

Mac knew what he was hinting at, and so she diverted things slightly. Reflecting on the content of the picture of the two of them in Afghanistan, she commented, "We've been through quite a lot, haven't we?"

"That's an understatement," said Harm. "Most people don't go through as much excitement in their lives as we've been through the last few years."

"Yeah, … my life was much calmer before I met you," she teased. Softening, and looking at him appreciatively, she quietly told him, "… But, it wasn't nearly as good."

It was now Harm's turn to be stunned from shock. "Watch it, Mac. Now _you're_ starting to sound complimentary. It might go to my head." The truth was, the fact that she felt her life was better with him in it went straight … to his heart. It became just a little warmer in his chest.

Again avoiding anything serious, Mac decided, "Okay, if you're not opening, then I will." She unwrapped a small box, one of traditional size from Harm. It was indeed … her perfume.

Her face expressed her satisfaction. "Tried and true. And very much appreciated. … Thank you, Harm."

"You're welcome. But I'm really being kind of selfish. … I like that smell on you."

Mac smiled shyly, before answering, "Good. I'd hate to think you were supporting something that annoyed you, … considering we spend so much time together."

Harm happily grinned at her.

"Okay, … now open your next one," insisted Mac.

Harm did as he was told and became extremely surprised … and confused. It was a picture frame. But it wasn't just any frame. It was a piece of artwork, … carved wood with an intricate design featuring symbols of the Marines and the Navy.

It included detailed depictions of military vehicles: a tank, a ship, a jet. Pieces of uniforms, helmets, rifles. Words hidden throughout: camaraderie, duty, USA, honor, fidelity, patriotism, courage, unity. More prominently, at the bottom, it stated, "Together, We Make a Difference. In Mind. In Heart. In Country."

Harm had seen it before. Mac bought one just like it for herself on a trip to San Antonio, Texas from a small shop selling military related items. The frame had been crafted by a retired Navy man, who had since passed away. The senior chief petty officer had served with many marines and dedicated his time after service to carving tributes to the two branches of military. He had become quite an artist over the years.

Harm looked at Mac in disbelief. "You … found another one?"

He knew that these were rare. Mac had told him about the quaint little shop and how few of this man's works were left. And since the artist was dead, she could not exactly have custom ordered another one.

"… No," Mac answered hesitantly.

"This is yours?"

"Not anymore. … You can put a copy of the picture you gave me in there. It's a perfect fit." Mac suddenly realized that Harm might have another picture he would rather display in the frame. He had, after all, served with a lot of people in many capacities. Or maybe he had something of his father he'd want to see in there.

"… Or whatever photo you want," she amended.

"No, that picture is perfect," said Harm. That was why he had given it to Mac in the first place. He had known she was looking for something appropriate to put inside the frame.

"… But I don't have a copy of it," Harm admitted. "The lieutenant who sent me the photo … He was using old technology, … and the negatives got destroyed. He only had the one copy printed."

"And you gave it to me?" asked Mac, suddenly even more touched by the gift.

"It was perfect for your frame."

"But now it's your frame," she pointed out.

"And your picture," he countered.

Mac thought for a moment. "Maybe … we can scan the photo?"

Harm made a face and shrugged his shoulders. "I doubt that the quality would be as good. … You have the picture here?"

"Yeah." Mac jumped up, ran to her bedroom with the flashlight, and returned with the photograph.

"Is it okay if I see what they look like together?" Harm asked.

"Go ahead."

He carefully opened the frame by the firelight and inserted the print. Turning the finished product over, both Harm and Mac were impressed by how well they went together. It seemed that each part complimented the other perfectly.

"That's really nice, Harm," Mac quietly observed. "… It would be a shame to take it apart."

"So, let's not," decided Harm. He placed the frame on the coffee table, displaying the photo with pride.

"It's _your_ frame," said Mac, objecting to his making a home for it on her coffee table.

"It's your picture," countered Harm. "…. One isn't good without the other."

"Yeah," said Mac, picking up the framed photo, "… so you should keep the picture too."

She tried to hand it back to him, but he refused to take it. "I'm not an Indian giver," he said with his hands up in a 'not gonna touch it' gesture.

"Me either," argued Mac. "… But I can re-give the picture to you so you'll have both parts." She again tried to get him to take it.

This time he put his hand out, but didn't completely grasp the frame. "We obviously aren't going to solve anything this way. There's only one logical solution for us both to be happy."

"There is?"

"We share it," said Harm.

"How do you expect to do that when we live in two different places? Even if we were to take it to work, we have different offices."

"Joint custody."

"Of a picture?" Mac asked, as if it was a ridiculous idea.

"And frame."

"What does that mean? We trade? I have it for six months, you have it for six?" She still thought this was kind of silly.

"Yeah," said Harm. "… Or shorter time periods if you like. I think any judge would agree that it's in the best interest of this photo and frame if we share legal custody and take turns with the physical custody."

Mac was thoroughly amused at how he was treating this like custody of a child. It was such a classic Harm solution.

"Now," he continued, "you can have physical custody first, since it is already getting comfortable in this environment."

He placed the frame back on the coffee table, before stating as an expert negotiator, "So, … you've got Christmas. I'll get Easter. I'm insisting on visitation rights in the meantime. So, I'll probably come over here more often …" with a glint in his eye, he added, "… to spend time with the picture."

"And frame," added Mac, knowing she was going to agree to this nonsense.

Harm grinned at her in agreement. "Deal?" He offered his hand.

Mac hesitated for a moment. "Do I get visitation when it's at your place?"

"Of course."

"Deal."

They shook hands. Another pact was made.

-------

TBC …


	11. Part 11

**Christmas Nigh; Adeste Fi!**

A/N: Thanks for the reviews!

**Part 11**

Bud stood at the sink washing up some of the dishes from dinner.

Harriet entered the kitchen, declaring, "I finally got AJ in bed. He's too wound up to sleep."

"I can understand that," said Bud. "There's hardly a more exciting time for a little boy than Christmas Eve. The extra people in the house, the decorations all over, and of course, waiting for Santa and whatever surprises Christmas brings."

Harriet leaned against the counter near her husband. "We certainly got our surprise this year, didn't we? … Delivered by Mr. Claus, himself." She still couldn't believe that it was a doctor completely dressed up as Santa who gave them the good, but unexpected, news that they were having another baby.

"We sure did," Bud agreed with a huge, goofy smile, emanating with pride. After a few seconds, he looked over at his wife with a meaningful gaze. "… I'm happy, Harriet. Really happy."

"Me too," said Harriet, placing her hand on Bud's arm. They shared a moment, before Harriet's stomach growled. "… And hungry," she added. "Where's that leftover pie that Colonel MacKenzie brought?"

"Uh, on the counter over there," Bud pointed to the area on the other side of the room.

"Great. … The rest of those dishes can just soak for tonight, Bud," she told him. "You want a slice?" she asked, now standing over the dessert.

"Sure," he answered, "I'll get the whipped cream."

Harriet cut two slices of pie and put them each on the kitchen table. Bud meanwhile dried his hands, limped over to the refrigerator, and then walked back to the table shaking a can of whipped cream.

"I love this stuff," he said, his eyes aglitter like a child. Bud sat down and proceeded to try to top off his pie. But the can just made a hissing noise and only spluttered out a few traces of white splats.

"That's weird," said Bud, shaking the can more. "It feels full."

He pushed the nozzle again over the pie, but the cream still did not come out. He shook it a third time, and when it still did not spray, he leaned his head down to see if he could identify the problem with the nozzle. Suddenly, a burst of cream exploded out of the can, splurting its whiteness all over, but mostly hitting Bud in his face.

Harriet laughed. "Sometimes you're as bad as little AJ," she remarked with humor as she got up to get a towel.

Bud couldn't help laughing too while he started wiping cream off of himself with his fingers and licking the sweet substance.

"You're just spreading it," Harriet lightly scolded. "Here," she indicated that he should let her take over. She began using the wetted towel to clean the cream off of his shirt. Then she moved to clean his face, starting with the one spot that had hit just above his eye. Then she abruptly stopped before getting to the splotches and smears on his cheeks and chin.

"Actually, …" She paused to take a good look at him, and she quickly became inspired. She didn't finish the sentence, but put the towel down, picked up the abandoned can, and sprayed some cream in the palm of her hand. Then, with two fingers of her other hand, she dabbed into the cream and began spreading it on Bud's face … above his lip and on his chin.

"Harriet, what are you doing?" Bud asked with surprise, licking what was dripping from his upper lip.

"Seeing what you'd look like with a beard and moustache," she replied, as she finished adding more to his cheeks and another layer above his lip to replace what Bud's tongue had confiscated.

"There," she declared as she finished her artistry. She backed up to admire her work. "It's cute," she said with a giggle.

"I must look like Santa Claus," said Bud. He liked it when Harriet got a little silly.

"Well, it is Christmas," she rationalized, wiping her hands on the towel.

"So it is," Bud agreed, before quickly pulling his wife down on his lap.

"Bud!" exclaimed Harriet with delighted surprise. Then she repeated his name, but this time with concern about hurting his leg.

"It's ok," Bud assured her.

"You sure?"

"Of course." Taking on a deep, fake Santa voice, Bud added, "Santa's sure about everything."

Harriet laughed at Bud's impression.

He continued the act in the same low, gruff tone, "Now, tell Santa what you want for Christmas."

Harriet thought for a moment, before answering. "I have everything I could want – a wonderful, loving husband who I am lucky enough to have with me today … and who I am _so_ proud of."

Bud knew she was referring to the fact that he had almost been killed by a landmine that year. Her pride for him was probably due to how he was overcoming the loss of his leg in that explosion.

Harriet continued, "We have little AJ, who's healthy and happy and who amazes me more everyday. We have plenty of food and enough money, … or we will" she amended, "when the payment system gets straightened out."

"We've got a very nice new house," Bud added in his own voice, acknowledging that he was happy with their home despite the fact that Harriet bought it without telling him.

"Yes," she agreed, appreciating his concession. "… And I have a new life growing inside of me, – one that you," she paused and, pretending he was Santa again, rephrased, "my husband and I created with love." She wiped up some of the cream running down his neck.

Bud was smiling broadly again. "He's a pretty lucky guy, – your husband," Bud said in the third person, but without the Santa voice.

"We're lucky he's still alive," said Harriet very seriously.

Bud's response, entirely as himself, was somewhat somber. "Even without a leg."

"That doesn't matter," said Harriet sternly. "… Not to me … Not to who you are in this world," she reassured.

Bud knew he was indeed one lucky man to have such a supportive woman as his wife. "I love you, Harriet."

She smiled. "I love you too, … Santa." As she added the new nickname she wiggled his nose between her thumb and finger.

Bud chuckled and a section of cream began sliding down his neck.

"Ooh, you're dripping," Harriet noticed and caught the substance with her hand. Licking it from her fingers, she said, "You're right, this whipped cream is great stuff."

She sprayed more out and began reapplying his snowy 'beard.' She suddenly got a glint in her eyes, and suggestively asked, "I wonder what kind of other fun we could have with this?"

"Harriet!" Bud was shocked that his wife was implying what he thought she was implying, as she slowly licked her fingers clean.

"What?" she asked with mock innocence.

"I …," Bud recovered some, "… think you're being naughty," he teased.

"But, I bet it would be nice," Harriet countered with a giggle.

More cream slid off Bud's chin down his neck. "Oh," Harriet laughed at the mess as she grabbed for a napkin on the table.

Bud had long since removed his tie for the night and opened his shirt collar, so the soft, white trail easily slid its way down the inside of his shirt. Harriet undid one more of his buttons to clean up the cream that had oozed down to his lower neck.

It was Bud's turn to giggle. "That tickles!"

"What, this?" Harriet teased her husband by purposefully using the edge of the napkin to tickle him under his 'beard.'

"Yes, that!" Bud laughed.

She stopped, and the couple smiled at each other for a moment until Harriet leaned in and kissed Bud on the mouth, not caring about the whipped cream that would get on her in the process.

"Eww, Mommy!" a voice from the hall protested.

Harriet quickly pulled away from Bud, both parents blushing with embarrassment.

"AJ!" exclaimed Harriet, as she quickly stood up and wiped off the cream that had transferred to her face from Bud's. "What are you doing out of bed?"

Instead of answering, AJ cocked his head and took a good look at his father. Then he laughed. "Daddy, you look like Santa Claus," the little boy declared.

Harriet, trying to recover from being caught by their son, explained, "Mommy and Daddy were just playing."

"Can I play too?" asked AJ in earnest. "I wanna be Santa Claus."

Bud was now using a clean napkin to wipe off his face, while Harriet told AJ, "_You_ need to go to bed or the real Santa won't come tonight."

"But I want some cream," AJ pouted.

"Not tonight," Harriet sighed.

"But …"

"AJ, listen to your mom," said Bud. "Santa won't stop here if you're still awake."

AJ groaned, but relented. "Ok. … But you guys need to go to bed too," he pointed out.

Harriet looked at her son. "Believe me, sweetheart, … Mommy and Daddy were just about to take each other to bed." The look in her eye for the brief moment she glanced over at her husband let Bud know _exactly_ how they were going to be celebrating tonight.

-------

TBC …

-----

A/N: Hey, Bud and Harriet deserve a little romance too! I'm hoping you all caught the big Christmas reference in this chapter. Anyway, the next part is back to Harm and Mac.

-- Teacup (of JAG) (-- Who is always looking forward to feedback!)


	12. Part 12

**Christmas Nigh; Adeste Fi!**

A/N: Feedback makes me happy, … so thank you!

Hey, I just noticed that this part, being 12/25, ... is kind of another reference in and of itself, isn't it?

**Part 12**

Harm and Mac had finished opening presents, mostly just a few more odd little gifts that only those who know each other well could get.

"I must have been good this year, after all," commented Harm, looking over all of his presents from Mac.

"Nah," Mac playfully disagreed, "I just like shopping."

"Did you like your gifts?"

"I do like them. Thank you," Mac answered. "… You know that any other woman would have been offended by being given a rock for Christmas. Well," she amended, "… unless it was the shiny and expensive kind attached to a ring."

Picking up the actual referenced gift, Harm objected, "This isn't a rock. It's a fossil."

"I know," Mac conceded with a smile.

"And _you_ … are not any other woman," he told her.

Harm was giving Mac that look again. The look that made her insides flutter.

She flushed, but again diverted things. "… I hope not," she responded with humor. "I'd hate to be suffering from multiple personalities."

After chuckling at her comment, Harm thoughtfully noted, "… You know, you do sort of have two … personas."

"What?"

"Sure, there's Mac, the tough Marine lawyer, … and Sarah, the …" He didn't continue.

"The what?"

He paused before quietly finishing, "… the woman underneath."

Mac tried to digest that, but found it difficult. "I'm the same person, Harm. I wasn't aware that having a nickname gives me a mean alter ego."

"I didn't say mean," Harm disputed. "'Mac' is also … my dependable, good-natured best friend."

"Then where does 'Sarah' come in? That side of me isn't your best friend?"

"You, as a whole person, are my best friend," he assured her. "Different names aren't bad, Mac, they just have certain connotations. … Like Santa Claus; … he's the guy in the red suit. St. Nicholas … is more religious with the bishop outfit and all." Harm gestured over his head indicating the mitre that bishops wear.

"Kris Kringle," he continued, "… I think of as 'civilian' Santa, you know, without the red uniform and all, the way I think he'd be the rest of the year. … And then there's Father Christmas, … he's a fun, feast-loving guy with a really full and wild beard." He used his hands to indicate the fullness of such facial hair. "… Different aspects, different names, but … the same person."

"Harm, those are all various cultural interpretations of a largely fictionalized character," Mac pointed out.

"Ok, forget the names," he told her. "I just meant … you've got different layers to who you are."

Mac considered that for a moment. "I guess I can see that," she admitted. "You've got different aspects to your personality too. They just don't have separate names." On second thought, she added, "… Unless you count 'Hammer,' … because your pilot self _definitely_ has its own layer."

Harm cocked his head at her. "You don't like the 'pilot' side of me, do you?"

Mac shrugged. "It's all part of who you are."

"You didn't answer the question."

"Didn't I?" She had thought that by her tone and evasiveness, she really had.

But Harm shook his head no.

Mac considered her response, before admitting, "That isn't the part of you that I would _specifically_ consider my best friend. It certainly isnot the side of you that I most understand. … And sometimes I think that's where your annoying over-arrogance stems from."

"Please, … don't hold back," Harm insisted sarcastically, but also jesting. "I can't take this rosy picture."

"You asked," Mac defended herself, knowing that Harm wasn't really offended. She was quiet for a moment, concentrating her eyes on the fire. Then she softly stated, "Hammer is the part of you that left me without my best friend and partner for six months. It's the part that almost … took you away from me completely."

She shifted her focus to the end of the blanket she had around her, … fidgeting with the edge as if she was considering taking it apart and putting it back together again.

"What?" He didn't know what she was referring to.

"Your swim in the Atlantic," she reminded him.

Harm had to think about that. "… I guess that incident occurred because I was a pilot, which put me out on the carrier in the first place," he admitted. "Though, … I'm not sure I was really operating in 'Hammer' mode at the time."

It was her turn to be confused. "What do you mean?"

Harm tried to work out how to answer her question. It was not that his flying abilities had been affected, … just his feelings. He had been Harm, the man, on that flight, trying to make it home because of what it meant to the woman he loved.

He would have offered that woman his unconditional support, even in losing her, … simply because she asked it of him. Or maybe he would have been completely honest with her and hoped he could have stopped her before she made a mistake.

He was now so thankful that the marriage didn't go through. Seeing Mac go to another man had bothered Harm more than he could express, doubly so because that man was 'Bugme.' But it was really the thought of losing her that he hated most. He'd been so emotionally torn.

That flight back, before everything went haywire, he really only had two things on his mind, other than piloting: 1) Mac would hate him if he didn't make it back in time, and 2) He'd rather eat a three-decker sauerkraut and toadstool sandwich with arsenic sauce, promptly ending his own life, than watch her marry Brumby.

"Just that … I wasn't in much of a 'cocky jetfighter pilot' mood most of that trip," he answered. Getting away from that sticky issue, he got back to the subject, noting, "But, I see there is obviously part of me you wish was different."

"No, … not really," Mac said easily.

This confused Harm. Didn't she just basically say she hated the pilot in him?

"Like I said," Mac explained, "… it's part of who you are." She met his eyes. "Being a pilot encouraged you to be confident, daring, tenacious, and goal-oriented. You've applied all of those things to the courtroom … and the rest of your life. I do admire how you go after the truth, go out of your way to help people, … never give up."

With a small grin, she continued, "And while I may complain about your arrogance and that damn irresistible smile of yours that gets you whatever you want, … I've gotten used to them. More importantly, I've gotten to know _your_ other layers, so I realize that you're not really as cocky as you come off at times, … and I know that you don't really abuse your flyboy charm."

He couldn't help but check, "The flyboy charm and irresistible smile that you're immune to?"

"Not as immune as I try to pretend," Mac admitted, looking at the fire. Then she quickly turned her head to his meet his eyes. "… But yeah, …" she assured him with a lopsided grin, "I won't let you take advantage of me."

Harm was amazed at her admissions regarding him. "So, you don't mind my 'Hammer' traits on occasion?"

"No." She was giving him the softest look. "… And if you didn't love flying so much, then I wouldn't get to see your eyes light up every time you come within 1,000 feet of a plane."

Mac smiled as if to tell him that it made her happy to see him happy. "So, no, … I don't really wish that wasn't a part of you." She shrugged. "… I like who you are."

"I like who you are too." Harm began another sentence, "I think that …" Suddenly realizing he was about to say something very revealing about his feelings for her, he stopped.

"What?" Mac implored him to continue.

He switched gears. "… that … I … should change into my new PJ pants."

Mac knew that wasn't what he was going to say. She wondered about it, but didn't ask. "Good idea. … Here, take the flashlight to the bathroom. I'll find you a sweatshirt and put it out on the bed."

---------

TBC …


	13. Part 13

**Christmas Nigh; Adeste Fi! **  


A/N: All kinds of other Christmas references in this part. Thanks for reading! Double thanks to those who review!

**Part 13**

The Admiral was diligently working on the solar system puzzle that little AJ had given him earlier that evening as a Christmas gift. Initially, Meredith was helping him with it, but some time ago she had disappeared into the bedroom.

So AJ Chegwidden worked by himself. He was currently finishing up a particularly bright star west of Earth. Suddenly, two hands clapped over his eyes by a person standing behind him.

"Guess who?" asked Meredith.

"Who?" returned AJ, knowing this was some sort of game.

"You're supposed to guess," she scolded him.

"What are my choices?"

"You don't get any, … but I'll give you a hint. … Who comes around on Christmas night?"

The Admiral knew the answer to that one – one jolly old St. Nicholas. But for some reason he figured it wasn't the one Meredith was looking for. Still, he appropriately responded, "Santa comes around on Christmas night."

Without confirming or denying the correctness of his response, she gave him another hint. "Who's got on something lacy white?"

"I hope that's not Santa," answered AJ. That would _not_ be a pleasant image.

"Who's wearing something sexy red?" was her next question.

"Mrs. Claus?"

Meredith leaned down to the Admiral's ear. "Who's got a prize for you in bed?"

AJ smiled. "Let's see, … Christmas night, lacy white, sexy red, prize in bed. … Must be … Vixen," he proclaimed.

Meredith quickly let go of his eyes. "The reindeer?" she asked, quite appalled.

AJ laughed. "There damn well better be no 'prize' left behind by a deer in my bed."

Meredith walked around so that AJ could see her. She was indeed dressed in a sexy red nightie. She also had a green feather boa around her neck.

"But I was right." AJ gulped. "… You are a vixen."

"Oh, I'm just a woman wanting her Christmas presents," she told him.

"Thought we agreed to wait until morning?" AJ asked, confused.

"We did. But I want to give Santa my list," Meredith playfully pouted.

"It's a little late for that, isn't it?" the Admiral pointed out. "… Santa's already flying in his sleigh by now."

"Well," Meredith dramatically sighed, "then you'll have to do." She suddenly pulled out a red Santa cap from behind her back and put it on AJ's bald head.

Then she picked up the remote to his stereo, which had been quietly playing Christmas music in the background. She pressed a few buttons to play a track off of a Christmas karaoke CD she had bought and had earlier slipped into the machine. She turned it up.

Soon, the Admiral heard a familiar 'buh-bum, … buh-bum' from male back-up singers. He knew he was in trouble. At least she wasn't doing this in public. That last time she 'sang' for him when they were out had been horrendous and embarrassing.

He had been so thankful that Meredith didn't do any solo singing earlier tonight, and even more so that she actually _could_ play the piano fairly well. This woman fascinated him, but kind of scared him too. Her fearless nature and lack of … talent did concern him.

Meredith had pulled AJ out of his seat by the table, where he'd been working on the puzzle, and over to the sofa where she pushed him back down.

"_Santa baby_," she started off key. "_Buy some Vail passes to ski … with me. … Been an awful good girl. Santa baby, so, hurry down the chimney tonight_."

The Admiral noticed she was changing some of the words. Interesting. Did that mean this was her real wish list?

Unsurprisingly, Meredith really was butchering the tune to this song. However, AJ was still captivated by her body motions, noting that she was using some of her more sexy moves.

"_Santa baby, … a parachute for sky-diving too, … light blue. … I'll wait up for you dear. Santa baby, so, hurry down the chimney tonight_."

That confirmed for AJ that she was definitely customizing the wish list to her adventure seeking ways. Was she nuts though? A light blue parachute would blend in with the color of the sky. Not something that someone recreationally taking up airspace would want.

Meredith put her leg up on the coffee table and ran her hand seductively over herself while attempting to sing, "_Think of all the fun I've missed. … Think of all the fellows that I … haven't kissed._" She took her leg down and approached AJ. "_Next year I could be … just as good … if you check off my Christmas list._" She leaned down and traced her finger over his nose and mouth.

AJ was no doubt turned on. But he'd also always been slightly offended by the principle of this song. It was sort of demeaning for a woman to threaten a man to give her every outrageous thing she wanted to ensure her fidelity.

Meredith straightened up and moved away again. "_Santa baby, … I want a shot at hunting to pot … the lot._" She gestured, pretending to fire a shotgun. "_Been an angel all year._" There was something amusing about calling herself an angel while still holding her pretend gun. "_Santa baby, so, hurry down the chimney tonight_."

She then 'hurried' to AJ, but in the process banged into the coffee table, and fell flat on the floor behind it. AJ nearly stood up to check on her, when suddenly her head popped up, with "_Santa honey_." She pulled herself up while continuing, "_One little thing I really need, … a steed, … for a riding good time._"

Meredith sat on the coffee table with a thunk. Sadly, it actually crossed the Admiral's mind that he was thankful he'd opted to put the puzzle together on the bigger table in the other room, because it wouldn't have survived this assault.

"_Santa cutie, … so fill my stocking with scuba gear; … don't fear_." She quickly moved to sit on AJ's lap now. "_To dive I hear is sublime_."

'Well, if you've got enough O2,' thought AJ, remembering his last diving experience. AJ was an ex-Seal. He liked to dive, but it wasn't his first choice for fun at this point in his life, especially if he had to worry about Meredith's safety.

"_We'll take a trip_," she gestured her arm outwards as she crooned, "… _out to sea_." AJ started to open his mouth to object, but Meredith quickly put her finger over his lips and went on. "_Don't say no, 'cause I won't listen … to your plea_."

"_I really do … believe in you_," she badly sang and then stood up, pulling him with her. "_Let's see if you … believe in me_."

She pulled her boa off and wrapped it around the back of AJ's neck. "_Santa baby, … forgot to mention one little thing … a fling … when I'm ever alone. Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight_."

Rubbing up and down his body, pulling on the boa, she finished, "_Hurry, … tonight_." She kissed him soundly on the lips.

When she released his mouth, AJ promptly questioned, "Fling?" What the devil had that meant? She wanted to be able to fool around with someone else if he wasn't available?

"Not quite the response I was hoping for," said Meredith.

"What did you mean by a fling?" he repeated. He wasn't upset exactly, just confused.

"AJ, it was just a line for fun. It didn't mean anything … except that you and I can have some good times together."

"You think of us as a fling?"

"AJ, you are _not_ just some fling. You mean a lot to me," she assured him. "… Now, how about we head to the bedroom, and you can play with your little 'vixen,' if that's what you insist on calling me."

He needed to clear his head. "I want to finish the puzzle first," said AJ. "I'm almost done."

Meredith was baffled. He was postponing going to bed with her to finish putting together little pieces of cardboard? How that could be was a far more challenging puzzle to her than what was lying on the table.

The Admiral noted her disappointed look, which confused him. She had been the one who suggested they finish the puzzle tonight. So he'd made it his mission to do so. Was her attention span really that short? He looked her over. She did look enticing. It was then that he noticed her leg.

"Hey, you're bleeding." It was from where she'd hit her leg on the coffee table.

"Oh, dear," said Meredith, just now realizing she'd been hurt. "I guess I'd better get that cleaned up. … You finish up your puzzle, and I'll be back."

She left, and AJ shook his head as he removed the boa from his neck and thought about Meredith. She had barely flinched when she hurt herself. He wondered if the only feelings she was capable of were passion and excitement.

And how could she be so oblivious to so many things? … So many of her own limitations? How could she overestimate what she was capable of so badly? Or did she just not care?

He wanted to believe in her and their relationship. But was she the real deal? Worth putting faith in for the long term? He'd heard so much about faith tonight. It could be a great source of strength. Yet, faith in the wrong things was not only naïve and pointless, but in some cases could be downright destructive.

The stereo had become quiet after playing the one song from the CD. The Admiral did not bother to turn the radio back on. He focused on finishing the puzzle and had it entirely complete except for the very last few pieces.

"It's so quiet out here," Meredith commented when she returned.

"'Not a creature was stirring,' …" quoted AJ. "It is, after all, the night before Christmas."

Meredith segued into Shakespeare, "'Not a mouse shall disturb this hallowed house. I am sent, with broom, before, to sweep the dust behind the door.'"

"Have you swept up anything other than dust?" asked AJ. "Because I'm missing my last piece," he referred to the puzzle, now finished except for one empty spot on the planet Earth.

"We'll find it in the morning," Meredith suggested.

"I want to finish this." He was shaking the box out, looking for the missing piece. Finding nothing there, he started scanning the area of the floor beneath the table.

"AJ," Meredith begged. "Come to bed."

"As soon as I find this damn part of the Earth's stratosphere."

"AJ …"

"It's got to be here somewhere." He was bent over with his head under the table.

"AJ!"

He sat up and narrowly missed bumping his head, though his Santa cap did get knocked off by the table.

Meredith asked, "If you find your piece, you'll come to bed?"

"As soon as I find it," he promised.

"This piece, right here on Earth?" Meredith asked, using her pointer finger to slide the piece that had been sitting on top of the puzzle, blending in with the rest of the Earth's blue and white appearance, out into the darkness of space for AJ to see.

"That's all I wanted," claimed the Admiral, relieved that finding it wasn't a lost cause. He picked up the part and fit it into its proper place. "This piece on Earth," he declared, before repeating, "That's all I wanted."

Meredith smiled and wittily said, "I wish I could provide good will toward men, too."

AJ silently chuckled in response to her play on words.

Meredith leaned down and picked up the Santa cap. "… But, … come to bed now," she invited. "I can at least show _my_ good will to one man in particular tonight," she said, sliding the cap back on AJ's head. She in her nightie, still sexy red, took one two star Admiral and led him to bed.

------

TBC …

----

A/N: Reviews for this part? I know it was a bit different. Anyway, ... more Harm and Mac on the way in the next post!

--Teacup (of JAG)


	14. Part 14

**Christmas Nigh; Adeste Fi!**

A/N: Ok, if you don't pick up on the Christmas allusions in the case discussion - that portion may seem a bit boring ... but Harm and Mac _are _lawyers, so there will be shop talk (and after all, JAG is partly a legal show). But there are some good shippery things happening in this part too!

**Part 14**

"A Marine sweatshirt?" Harm came out wearing the offending garment along with his new pajama pants.

Mac smiled. "I'm a Marine, … it's what I've got. Besides, you put me in a Navy one when I spent the night at your place years ago."

"You remember what sweatshirt I loaned you?"

"I remember a lot about that night." She remembered being scared for Harm, mad at Palmer, upset over Webb's 'death.' She knew she was in a bad place emotionally if she was crying over that spook. But mostly, she remembered Harm in nothing but boxers, standing close, comforting her, cupping her cheek in his hand.

"I remember a thing or two about that night as well," said Harm. He remembered her stubborn insistence to stay at his place to protect him that night. He remembered how she could not sleep. How she was cold and crying. Even then, part of him wanted to take her to his bed and put his arms around her in comfort and warmth. And, … of course, he remembered her asking if it was okay to 'strip it down.'

That was worse than the 'what pajamas?' line, … except that she wasn't trying to be playful or flirty with her strip it down question. She'd been referring to his gun … and was completely serious.

"You gonna come sit down again?" asked Mac. "I brought out the cookie tray. … I forgot it before."

"Sure." Harm walked around the couch. "Ow!!" He jumped on one foot, and then balanced himself against the back of the sofa, holding his other foot in his hand.

"You okay?" asked Mac. "What happened?"

"I'll be fine. … I just stepped on something. He bent down and picked up the object which had hurt his socked foot. He hobbled back around to sit next to Mac on the floor. When he opened his hand the firelight revealed the small item to be a jingle bell.

Seeing this, Mac exclaimed, "Oh, that's where that went! Sorry, Harm. It must have rolled under the couch before we moved it. The bell was attached to the stuffed animal I gave little AJ. It was a seal dressed in a Christmas outfit."

"The bell fell off?"

"No, I cut it off; … it was defective," she explained.

Harm shook it, finally realizing that it hadn't made any noise so far, and it still didn't. "Empty?"

"I assume so, since it doesn't jingle," said Mac.

"Hmm. I hope there were enough other bells on the little seal so that AJ won't miss this one."

"Actually, this was the only bell. It was attached to the seal's hat."

"So, now the little seal has no bell?" Harm asked, as if feeling sorry for the stuffed animal.

"I replaced it with a pom-pom," said Mac. "It's probably for the best anyhow. I'm sure Harriet will appreciate not having to hear the constant noise every time AJ picks him up."

"Jingle bells aren't _that_ loud," said Harm.

"They can be," Mac disagreed. "… When I was a kid, I had a friend whose mother hung jingle bells on the front door of the house all year long. It acted like an alarm. Anytime someone came or left, the bells would jingle, and his mom could hear it all over the house. She could even hear the jingle all the way in the upstairs bedroom with the door shut."

"She could hear it all that way?" Harm skeptically asked. "Just a jingle?"

"A jingle. All the way," Mac confirmed. "It made sneaking in and out without his mom knowing very difficult. We had to use other methods of entrance and escape."

"We?" Harm hadn't missed the 'his' mom reference either. "You must be referring to stories from your teenage past."

Mac somewhat regretted bringing it up now and tried to avoid discussion of her teenage dating life. "Which is exactly where those stories are going to stay," Mac insisted. "… In the past."

Harm knew not to pursue it. He held the bell up. "Where do you want this?"

Mac took it from him. "I guess I should throw it away. It's no good if it doesn't jingle." She shook it again, and it remained silent. She put it on the coffee table for the time being. "I'll take care of it later."

Harm rubbed his arms.

"You're cold?" asked Mac. "That's unusual."

He shrugged. "It was cold in your bathroom," he explained. "You're right; it does get chilly pretty quickly in here without the heat on."

"You need a blanket?" Mac asked.

Harm paused for just a moment in thought. Then he asked hopefully, "You got room under yours?"

Mac looked at him with amused curiosity. "Are you giving yourself an invitation?"

"No," he answered. "… I was giving a subtle hint in hopes that _you'd_ give me an invitation."

"Subtle, huh?" she questioned his definition of the word.

He grinned at her. She gave him a knowing look, but then she lifted up the blanket. "Get over here," she offered.

Harm scooted over, and they both tried to adjust, pulling the blanket this way and that in a collective effort to untangle it from Mac and refit it around both of them. It wasn't as large as Mac thought it was, and they had to move in tightly against each other for it to completely cover them both. They tried several times and finally ended up in a comfortable position with Harm putting his arm around Mac's shoulders, pulling her to him.

"Is this okay?" he asked, unsure how she felt about his arm position.

Part of Mac thought she should be practical and go get another blanket for him, but the other part of her brain must have controlled her mouth, because she answered, "Yeah, … you okay?"

"Yeah. This is nice," he commented. "… Cuddled up on a snowy night. The fire, so …"

"Delightful?" suggested Mac.

"I was going to say, the fire is so -"

"Wait," Mac interrupted again. "Let me guess. … Warm?" Considering Harm's choice word for snow had been 'cold,' it was a good guess. But Harm surprised her.

"Christmassy," he finished his sentence.

"Christmassy?"

"Yeah," he confirmed that he had used her earlier term.

"Careful there, Harm. I'll start to believe you're a romantic yet."

Harm chuckled, but did not reply. The two sat in comfortable silence for a bit, relishing the closeness, the touching, and the warmth.

Mac needed a distraction. Being this close to the man she loved and was so very attracted to, she needed something to keep herself in check. Something decidedly work related.

"So, how did your TAD on the carrier go?" she asked.

"Fine. Not much to tell. … It was nice to spend some time with Admiral Boone."

"He's an interesting character."

"Sure is," Harm agreed. "… Hey, how did the Kristofferson case end up?"

Mac replied simply, "Charges were dropped."

"How'd you manage that?"

Seemed like a good opportunity to dive into shop talk, she decided. "The prosecution's case hinged on the weapon, which they claimed was the cane Kristofferson carried around all the time. And Sturgis had some quack psychologist lined up to testify that the defendant might have violent tendencies as a result of his accident."

"Battle of the expert psychologists. Got to love those cases," chuckled Harm.

"Fortunately, it didn't get that far," said Mac. "There was bloodstain evidence at the scene, where the weapon had rested at one point."

"DNA?"

Mac shook her head. "Nothing was found on the cane except Kristofferson's own DNA and prints from holding it. There was no trace of blood on the cane at all. But of course, Turner suggested that Kristofferson simply cleaned the cane thoroughly."

"So what _did_ you have?" Harm asked.

"A forensic expert specializing in bloodstain patterns to testify that the object used to kill the victim was not my client's cane. … The pattern in the blood indicated that what was lying there was, in fact, the murder weapon, but it did _not_ match the design of Kristofferson's cane."

"Was Nichols your expert?" asked Harm, wondering if Mac had gotten the same guy he had once used to testify.

"Yeah."

"He's good."

"He is," agreed Mac, "and it was amusing how Turner challenged Nichols' methodology. … The fun and games were all during the 'Daubert' hearing."

Harm's eyebrows shot up. "Wow, evidentiary hearings are usually pretty boring."

"Usually," Mac granted, "but counsel and judge were all in a _rare_ mood that day."

"Uh-oh," Harm reacted.

Mac explained, "Turner kept trying to attack Nichols' credibility. He kept insisting that Nichols was using a technique for the analysis that, not only wasn't widely accepted by the scientific community, but was outright fraudulent."

"What was Sturgis thinking?" asked Harm in surprise. "Nichols might be controversial in some circles, but he has more support for his work than an igloo has ice," he said. "You gave Sturgis the background info, right?"

"Sure," said Mac. "I submitted Nichols' CV, a report from respected colleagues attesting to his thoroughness and competence, and two of his peer reviewed, published articles on the subject. I don't know, … I guess Sturgis was just desperate. If the judge allowed my expert to testify and Nichols was believed, Turner had no case. … I know he didn't have a whole lot of prep time, but I couldn't get over how he was pushing the judge, implying that the CV was falsified, the report misleading, and the articles some kind of fluke. … The judge was not in the mood."

"Who was presiding?"

"Colonel Harper."

"He's new on the bench, right?"

"Yep. And instead of controlling Turner, he looks at me and asks if I had any other evidence to support Nichols' credentials and the methods he used. I told him I did, but hadn't wanted to unnecessarily burden the court."

"Generally, the court does hate to be burdened," Harm stated in agreement.

"… But Colonel Harper seemed to think the easiest way to stop Turner's complaints was to be thorough enough to prove that his allegations were either right or wrong. Apparently what I had already submitted wasn't enough. So Harper insisted both sides produce _all_ such evidence and put it in front of him immediately."

"So, what happened?" asked Harm.

"After a recess, during which I had Nichols and some support staff help me, I did as asked. I double checked that we shouldn't just submit the material to the clerk, but Harper insisted that I put everything right there on his desk."

"There are a lot of articles by Nichols and citing him," said Harm incredulously, "and even more on the methodology, … not to mention other cases he's testified in. He's got a ton of support across the world."

"Exactly," said Mac. "And we dumped as much of it as we could get copied during the recess right on Colonel Harper's desk."

"How much?"

"Enough so that we couldn't see the judge, because it was piled so high."

Harm laughed. "I wish I'd been there."

Mac smiled in amusement. "You should have seen Turner's face. … And when the judge stood up to address us over the pile, … he was not happy with the Commander."

"Tell me Sturgis didn't press for authentication for all that?"

"He's not that suicidal. Most of it's self-authenticating anyway. He's gonna be in hot water with Colonel Harper for awhile though because Turner should have known all that info was out there."

"He must have."

Mac nodded in agreement. "He probably didn't expect the judge to ask for 'every piece of evidence.' I don't know. There were other ways of challenging Nichols' testimony without calling him a liar. Sturgis really should have known better than to attack him on that level. … I mean, even Sturgis' father knows Nichols well enough to attest to his credibility. They worked on an article together about faith and science."

"Huh, I didn't know that. … So what happened then?" asked Harm.

"Sturgis dropped the charges. … It all came down to Nichols' testimony, and it looked like the judge was going to allow it. If you believed Nichols, then Kristofferson's cane was not the murder weapon. No weapon, … no case."

"Yeah, but Turner could still have offered counter evidence, … other experts to call the techniques or interpretation into question. Underneath it all, he believed in Nichols?"

"I guess," Mac shrugged. "Well, that … and I threatened to subpoena his father to testify that _he_ believed in Nichols," teased Mac.

Harm laughed. "The picture of innocence in Chaplain Turner on the stand attesting to his belief in a man that his very own son is trying to accuse as a fraudulent liar. … I like the way you think, MacKenzie."

"Thank you," she smiled up at Harm.

"You were brave to pull that stunt with Colonel Harper though," Harm pointed out. "Burying the judge behind a mountain of papers is a little extreme. The Admiral could have punished you for that by assigning you a ton of paperwork - … reports, FOIA requests, budget analyses, – especially considering the costs of all that photocopying you did. … And I don't think judges appreciate you going beyond what common sense tells you is appropriate for court."

"Look who's talking," Mac pointed out. "Besides, I'd rather spend a month in an appalling dump heap overflowing with the most disgraceful assortment of deplorable rubbish imaginable, … than let Turner steamroll over my expert."

Harm smiled at how worked up Mac was getting. "I love it when you're feisty," he told her, "… so sexy."

… Wait, that wasn't what he meant to say.

"What?" Mac was sure she must have been hearing things.

"… so … sassy," Harm repeated with what he had meant to say, hoping to convince her that she hadn't heard his Freudian slip.

Mac decided she must have been imagining things. Must be the effect of sitting so close to Harm. The man's very presence was driving her thoughts to places … that probably weren't appropriate.

They lapsed into another period of quiet. This one slightly more awkward, due to the sexual tension that neither one of them realized was affecting the other.

Eventually, Harm needed more conversation to distract him from his thoughts of how sexy he _did_ think Mac was. Something to help fight his urges to caress and kiss this woman who was still tightly pressed against him under the blanket, … under his arm. It would be so easy to put his lips to the side of her face and let his mouth wander from there. … Well, easy until she reacted negatively to his advances, he figured. Yep, he definitely needed a distraction.

--

TBC …

--


	15. Part 15

**Christmas Nigh; Adeste Fi!**

A/N: Just a warning - this part brings up a serious sociological topic. I'm referencing something that I understand exists in a limited sub-culture, ... and I've made up an extreme scenario to fit the story and the Christmas allusion I'm going for. ... Please don't extrapolate it to imply statements about any more general religion, country, culture, or political issue.

**Part 15**

Knowing the courtroom events that Mac had just spoken of must have been a few days previous, Harm asked, "So, anything interesting at JAG today?"

"No," Mac answered lightly, "… just your typical day in the Admiral's delivery room."

"You got to witness that first hand?" Harm asked. He had heard how the Admiral had once again delivered a baby in his office.

"Yeah. … It was amazing," said Mac with awe. "The whole thing is … such a miracle, … how a life is created. How it grows inside a mother's womb from practically nothing, and then nine months later … there's this incredible little human being entering into the world."

She paused and then continued remarking on the baby. "He was _so _adorable, Harm. … Babies make you want to just hold them close and protect them from everything bad out there."

"Yeah, … sometimes they need to be protected," said Harm. They had both seen situations where small children were subjected to horrors beyond what any human should be exposed to. For some reason, a particular story came to Harm's mind

"A long time ago, I worked on a desertion case. It was a woman who had disappeared for four years. Her parents were originally from India, and she married an Indian man who had been attending school in America. He took his wife home to his country during one of her periods of leave. … His parents were not pleased that he had married an American, even if she was of Indian descent. And being in the Navy made her even less acceptable as a proper wife, but the man insisted that he loved her and would remain her husband."

"Is that a good thing?" asked Mac, sure that this story was not headed in a positive direction.

Harm shrugged. "His parents pressured the man to keep his wife in their country, to assimilate her to their ways. … Because he had such respect for his family and culture, he allowed them to essentially keep her captive. He tried to make her happy, but … her freedom had been taken away. … The woman thought maybe if she had a child she might find some fulfillment in her new life, and that … she might gain the respect of her in-laws."

"So, she and her husband tried very hard to have a child," Harm continued. "For two years they had no luck. Then finally she became pregnant and gave birth to a little girl. … But this only earned the woman more scorn from the family, … because she had not been able to give her husband a son."

"Even though it's the man who needs to contribute the 'Y' chromosome to make a boy," Mac added with frustration.

"I don't think these cultures acknowledge that fact any more than they acknowledge the value of girls," said Harm. "The woman told me how her in-laws treated the baby. How 'accidents' would happen near her child, leaving the little girl badly injured. Her in-laws openly encouraged the couple to kill the child. It was difficult, but the woman managed to keep her little girl safe from any major damage."

"A year later, she again became pregnant," Harm continued. "And again, … she gave birth to a baby girl. This time, the husband's family became outraged. They considered the baby girl to be not only a burden, but an embarrassment to the family. This time they insisted that the baby be killed. The woman knew that with this second girl, her husband's family would kill her baby themselves, so she ran away with both of her girls. … But she had no means to support them, and she could not hide."

Harm tensed with frustration, as he proceeded with the tale, "But she had to run. She knew how babies were slaughtered in that area. She knew she would be hunted down and that at least one of her children would be ripped from her and brutally murdered."

"I can't even imagine," said Mac with a queasy feeling in her stomach.

"It was her husband who tracked her down," said Harm, "and she had never been so scared."

"What happened?"

"Fortunately, her husband really did love her … and their children. He did not want his baby to die any more than she did. But, they still had a problem, because his family had hired people to search for her and her baby. Those people were instructed to kill any female baby they came across within the town, in case the woman had passed her child off to someone else to keep safe."

"Killing babies _is_ illegal in India," said Mac.

"Technically, yes. But the police do little to enforce those laws in some areas, and prosecution is practically non-existent, … at least when families kill their own."

That thought made Mac sick. "So, what happened?"

Harm sighed. "The husband finally realized that he had a choice to make. Let the culture and society he grew up in dictate the fate of his wife and their children, … or follow his heart. Leave those ways behind and protect his new family. … He said he had a dream the night before his wife ran away, warning him to leave with her and their children, because they were in danger."

"Divine intervention?" asked Mac. She'd had enough of her share of 'visions,' to know that some kind of higher power was at play at times.

"Perhaps. … When he realized the threat was real, he made his decision. He found his wife and managed to get her and his girls on a plane with him. They left everything behind. He got a flight to Egypt, and they went into hiding."

"So how did she end up getting charged for desertion?" Mac wondered.

"It was mere coincidence that the woman ran into some Navy personnel. It was actually her fascination with hanging around them that got some people interested in her. That's how they found out who she was, and that she was technically a deserter."

"She wasn't found guilty for desertion, was she? It wasn't really _her_ intent to stay away permanently."

"No, charges were amended to Article 86."

"UA? But she was essentially held captive."

"It was all a little sticky with regards to how forced she really was to stay with her husband," Harm replied.

"I hope she didn't do any brig time. Sounds like she was already prisoner for far too long."

"Yeah, there was a softie on the prosecution's side. She was simply discharged."

"Softie, huh? Anyone I know?" asked Mac.

"You're looking at him."

Mac smiled. "You've always been a softie. … What happened to her?"

"She made it back home to her parents who were happy to welcome her and their granddaughters."

"Her husband?"

"I'm not sure. I didn't hear much about him after I got the story."

Mac shook her head with regards to the whole situation. "I find it hard to believe that anyone could want to kill a child. And sometimes it's the girl's own mother who does it. That thought is horrible enough, but … considering how many couples in the world want children and can't have babies of their own, it's … especially abhorrent that healthy baby girls are simply being discarded. They would be _so_ wanted by other people."

"I agree," said Harm. After a moment of respect to the subject, he insisted, "… But tell me more about today's experience. About the delivery." He wanted to get back to happy thoughts.

"Oh, the Admiral was in his element," said Mac, grateful for the return to their own happy world. "I think he might have missed his calling as an obstetrician."

Harm chuckled. "Now there is one guy who _really_ is a softie underneath the tough exterior."

"Yeah. You should have seen him holding the baby after he was born. … The Admiral was practically glowing," Mac told Harm.

"… Did you get to hold the baby?" Harm wondered.

"No. … I wanted to," said Mac, regretting that she had not been able to cradle the child, "but there were a lot more important people for the baby to be with." She shrugged, "… I helped the mother as much as I could."

"Was it a difficult labor?"

Mac lifted an eyebrow. "I think any labor is difficult without anesthesia, … probably even _with_ anesthesia if you talk to most mothers."

After a moment, she added, "I'm sure it's worth it though." There was a longing in her eyes. "When you see the result. A precious, … cute little being who is a part of you, … who you helped create. Someone who you get to watch and to help grow and develop from the very beginning. … Someone to give your unconditional love and support to."

"You're jealous," said Harm. It was not an accusation, and not meant to tease Mac. It was a simple observation.

"Not jealous exactly," answered Mac, but she knew what Harm was picking up on. Diverting things slightly, but keeping with a related topic, she added, "… I'm happy for Bud and Harriet."

"What do Bud and Harriet have to do with anything?"

Mac looked at Harm with surprise. "You didn't hear?"

"Apparently not."

"Harriet's pregnant. … She just found out today," Mac informed him. She had known Harm hadn't made it to the Roberts' house in time to hear the official announcement, but she would have thought someone would have mentioned it to Harm later.

Harm's eyebrows rose. "Really?"

"Yep."

He smiled. "That _is_ good news. … But you dodged the question."

"What was the question?"

"You want a baby of your own, don't you?"

--

TBC …

--

A/N: Thanks for hanging with me. ... The next part is a lot more fun -- still Harm and Mac.


	16. Part 16

**Christmas Nigh; Adeste Fi!**

Previously:

"_Harriet's pregnant. … She just found out today," Mac informed him. She had known Harm hadn't made it to the Roberts' house in time to hear the official announcement, but she would have thought someone would have mentioned it to Harm later._

_Harm's eyebrows rose. "Really?"_

"_Yep."_

_He smiled. "That __is__ good news. … But you dodged the question."_

"_What was the question?"_

"_You want a baby of your own, don't you?"_

**Part 16**

Mac looked a little embarrassed. "You know I do … when the time and circumstances are right."

Harm swallowed hard before venturing, "About a year and a half?"

Mac stiffened. Harm hadn't forgotten their deal. "… Maybe," she said with caution, "… if things seem right, … and you're still willing to keep your promise."

Harm met her eyes and assured her, "I'm not going to back down."

"We'll see," she softly said, turning her eyes back to the flames. She had heard the nervousness in Harm's voice. She wouldn't allow herself to get her hopes up too much.

"Unless you're in another relationship by then," Harm added, voicing his own concern.

Mac countered, "Or you are."

"That's doubtful," said Harm.

There was a long period of silence.

"You ever really think about it?" asked Mac finally.

"Our deal?"

Mac shrugged. "Having kids. Wondering what it'll be like. Wondering what _they'll_ be like."

"Troublemakers, I'm sure," Harm half-joked.

"Mmm," Mac agreed and teased, "… just like their daddy."

"I don't know," said Harm, "some of them might take after their mommy."

Mac didn't want to say it, but she did. "You don't know who she's going to be yet, … so you can't say what she's like."

"I might know what she's like now," said Harm with a soft look at Mac. "… But I guess we'll see in a year and a half."

Mac was at a complete loss for words. He really _was_ serious about considering her to mother his children.

Recovering from that, Mac finally took offense to his earlier comment about the kids taking after their mother. "Are you calling me a troublemaker?"

"You called me one," Harm pointed out.

"You _are_ one," said Mac. "But are you implying that I am as well?"

"If the combat boot fits," he joked.

"I prefer comfortable shoes," she volleyed back.

"I know. … Lots of them. … And I'm sure at least one pair is called 'trouble.'"

Mac faced him head on. "The only time I step in 'trouble,' is when I'm following after you."

"Not true," he disagreed.

"Is so."

"Is not."

Mac laughed. "We'd better stop acting like children before we have any of our own."

Harm laughed too. "Well, one thing is for sure," he noted, "… any kid of either one of us is going to have a terrible stubborn streak." He leaned closer to Mac and put his forehead against hers for just a moment.

"You're right," Mac acknowledged. "God help us if we do have a child together and he or she gets it from both sides." Jokingly, she said, "Maybe I'd better reconsider this deal."

Harm's heart stopped for a second. "You wouldn't, would you? … Back out on this?"

Mac saw the alarmed look on Harm's face. "No," she said seriously, "I wouldn't."

"Good." Harm was obviously relieved. He tried to cover how important the deal was to him, by adding, "… I'd hate to think you wouldn't keep a promise."

"I'm a woman of my word," Mac assured him. She was still confused by Harm's panic though. "But don't be so concerned about me." She shifted her eyes to stare at the fire again as she sadly checked, "This is just a back up plan, right?"

Harm almost gave in to his cowardice at that moment and agreed. But something else took hold of him. "I wouldn't call it that," he said.

That gave Mac hope, but she wasn't sure she could believe in a future for them. "Wouldn't you rather be swept off your feet in love?" she asked. "Don't you want to get married and have those kids with a woman who you love as completely as she loves you?"

"That _would_ be ideal," he admitted, hoping that someday Mac might be as much in love with him as he was with her.

Mac didn't hear that in his answer, however. She assumed he wasn't in love with her, … at least not completely. So obviously, if he wanted that kind of love, he was still waiting for someone else. Even with her own disappointment, she tried to bolster his hopes.

"It could still happen," she told him. "Fate might intervene within the next year and a half and provide you with the perfect someone."

Harm didn't answer. Fate had already provided him the perfect someone, if only he could make her his. He wasn't sure how to do that, but he couldn't give up on that dream.

"How do you see them?" he suddenly asked.

"What?"

"Ou' …" Harm corrected himself from saying 'our,' and restarted with, "Your kids. … How do you imagine them?"

"I don't know."

"Come on," he encouraged her. "If you were to have … a little girl, … what would she look like? How do you see her?"

Mac smiled at that thought. "She'd be cute."

He grinned. "You want to elaborate on that a bit?"

Mac hesitated, so Harm prompted her some more. "How about Christmas morning, … what's she doing?"

Mac put her head back against Harm's arm and let herself imagine. "She gets up early, and comes in to wake u'" Mac almost said 'us,' but caught herself. "uh, … me up to go to the Christmas tree where the presents are piled up. … She's dressed in cute little PJs."

Harm interrupted, "No cowboys until she's older, I hope."

Mac rolled her eyes, but otherwise ignored his comment. "She's got light brown hair with just a few wavy curls, she has beautiful bluish eyes, and her cheeks are a little rosy from excitement. … She runs downstairs, picks up one of her presents and then sits on her knees with the gift in her lap, waiting patiently, … but with the most charming little grin."

Mac stopped, leaving Harm to wonder, "So, what's her present?"

"I don't know," answered Mac, "but it's your turn now."

"My turn?"

"Tell me," Mac insisted, "what kind of girl would you have?"

"You know," he said thoughtfully, "… I like the one you described."

"That's cheating," Mac accused, thinking he was trying to get out of sharing his own imaginings.

"I can't help it that we think alike," he protested.

"Fine," Mac conceded. She did like the idea that they might be thinking alike. But she wasn't letting him off the hook either. "Then tell me what you'd get your daughter for Christmas."

Harm let out a small laugh. "Whatever she wanted, probably."

"And what would that be?" Mac prompted.

Harm thought about it for a few moments, before deciding, "A trip to the zoo."

"Really?" Mac had been expecting something more … able to fit in a box.

"Yeah. … I think she'd love all the furry and cute animals, … the pandas, the little seal pups. … But at the same time I think she'd be fascinated by the fiercer animals, … like the crocodiles stealthily lying in wait. … She'd spot them, despite their green camouflage. And even though she would know they were dangerous, and she would be a little scared, she wouldn't show her fear. She wouldn't consider herself any more vulnerable than the crocodile."

"A brave little girl," Mac interpreted.

"Yeah. And smart," Harm added. "I think she'd love those exhibits where they show the structures of the animals, … you know, with the bones and all?"

"Yeah, I love those," answered Mac.

"I know you do," Harm told her in a way that made Mac's heart skip a beat.

"… So, you'd give her an experience," Mac refocused on the child. "… Some quality time with her dad as opposed to a thing she could hold onto and play with?"

"I think quality time is the most valuable thing parents can give their child."

Mac was aware that Harm had missed that with his dad. Those memories he did have of the time spent with his father, he clung to. And Mac knew that what Harm had said about what was most valuable from a parent was true.

Looking back, she'd trade any amount of toys to have had time spent with her parents during which they showed her that they loved her; … but that was not to have been. Her mother and father did not have much in the way of parenting abilities. But Harm, on the other hand, … he had great potential for fatherhood. This kind of thinking proved it.

"You're full of wisdom tonight," Mac told Harm in earnest. "… You're gonna make a great dad."

"We'll see," said Harm, not quite as convinced. "Anyway, I'd get her stuff to play with too. Like, I'd imagine she'd want to stop at the zoo's gift shop."

"Stuffed animals to take home?" asked Mac.

"Probably, … among other things."

"So, a soft, fuzzy panda bear for Christmas?"

"Maybe, … but I think she'd want a hippo."

"A hippopotamus?" Mac asked with surprise. "_Why_, of _all_ the animals, would she want a hippopotamus?"

Harm shrugged. "Hippos are fun. … And I think they'd remind her of her father."

Now Mac laughed. "You're calling yourself a hippo? … _Please_, let me hear your explanation for this."

"Well, they're big," he explained, "… and to a very little girl, I'd be big."

"You're tall, not fat," said Mac. "Why not a giraffe?"

"I don't have a stretched out neck," he dismissed the idea and continued on. "Hippos are not meat eaters, though they live among them."

"Is your daughter going to practically be a vegetarian, like you?"

"No," he quickly answered, "her mother is going to corrupt her."

Mac wasn't sure if that referred to her or some fictional mother. She decided to let it go and stay focused on the child. "So, she's going to like hippos because they're big and don't eat meat, like you?"

"Yeah," Harm answered. "… and hippos have funny ears."

"You don't have funny ears," Mac told him.

"I've got a crooked one."

"Yeah, but it's cute."

Harm smiled, hearing that Mac thought his bent ear was cute. He didn't tell people, but he was a little self conscious about it. "Hippos have cute ears too."

Mac chuckled at the preposterous thought of Harm having anything in common with such an animal. "Harm, the happy, hippo hero. That's what your daughter's going to want for Christmas?"

"Yep."

"Not a crocodile?" Mac checked. "… You said she'd be intrigued by them."

"No crocodiles!" Harm objected. "… I said she'd be fascinated by them, not that she would enjoy them. … And no rhinoceri or anything else either."

"Rhinoceri?"

"Isn't that the plural of rhinoceros?"

"Not the widely accepted version," said Mac.

"Fine, no rhinoceroses-es either," Harm insisted playfully. "She'd want a hippo. Hippos are happy, healthy, and lovable."

"Hippos don't fly," Mac pointed out.

"No, but they do spend a lot of time in and on the water, … and they can snap one of those threatening crocodiles in half if the need ever arises."

"Just like her daddy would protect her from those nasty monsters," Mac interpreted the significance of that fact.

"Absolutely," Harm stated. "Or from any other kind of monster. … Plus, … I don't think my daughter will associate me with flying too much."

That last comment was very interesting. But although she was curious, Mac did not follow up on it.

"Okay, your turn," Harm told Mac.

"No, I started last time," she said. "I want to hear what you think a boy of yours would be like."

---

TBC …

---

A/N: So, personally, I loved this part. What did you think about it?


	17. Part 17

**Christmas Nigh; Adeste Fi!**

A/N: This part's good and long. Well, it's longer than usual; ... whether it's good is your decision :0)

Previously:

"_Okay, your turn," Harm told Mac.  
_

_  
"No, I started last time," she said. "I want to hear what you think a boy of yours would be like."_

**Part 17**

"A boy?"

"Yeah."

Harm thought for just a second. "… He'd be a handsome little guy."

"Of course."

"… He'd have straight hair, thick and … really dark," said Harm.

Mac commented, "And any kid of yours is likely going to sprout up pretty high, … so he'll grow up to be tall, dark, and handsome." Her eyebrows raised and she grinned as she pointed out, "… Dangerous combination. He'll be a heartbreaker."

"Probably," Harm agreed with his own crooked smile.

"Your eyes?" Mac inquired.

"… No, he'd have softer eyes," answered Harm. "… Big and … chocolate brown."

Mac swallowed; … she had brown eyes, … and Harm was looking into them now. If hers really were chocolate, they'd be melting at the moment. "And Christmas morning?" she asked. "How do you envision that?"

"Hmm." Harm looked away in thought. "… I'm seeing him as a pretty little guy. Too young to come wake us up, … his mother and I," he explained. "… But old enough to toddle around a bit on his own. So I guess we'd carry him downstairs … and let him loose on the packages."

"We would not!" Mac disagreed.

"We wouldn't?"

Mac looked a little ashamed at showing her presumptive thinking, but decided she might as well go along with the hypothetical. "Well, … if _I_ was the mother," she said, "… _I _wouldn't let him loose. … Do you know how much damage a little bundle of energy can cause within a matter of minutes? We want him to open presents, … not destroy them."

"Okay. … It's your turn anyhow," Harm flipped things around. "If he's your little terror, … what does he get for Christmas?"

"I wouldn't call any child of mine a terror," Mac objected.

"Alright, your darling bundle of energy, … what does he get?"

She momentarily considered it. "Well, he's too young to _really_ appreciate a trip to the zoo, … but I don't think he'd be into that sort of thing too much anyhow."

Harm was interested. "Oh, what would he be into?"

"Anything that gives him an adrenaline rush." Mac thought for a second and then decided, "That's what I'd get him, … a swing set for the backyard. I think he'd like to swing. … That feeling of flying high."

"Can't he do that at a park?" asked Harm.

"Sure," answered Mac. "But I don't think it would be good for him to go there all the time."

"Why's that?"

"Because he's going to charm the socks off of every woman who comes walking by," Mac explained, only partly tongue-in-cheek. "Not only would I have to be triply careful so that no one steals him away, but … I don't think a frequent amount of attention from all kinds of strangers would be good for him at that young of an age."

"What, you think he'd learn to take advantage of people?" Harm questioned.

"No. He'll be a good boy. He'll grow up wanting to do what's right. … But, I don't want him to think he can get whatever he wants from anyone based on his charm." Mac smirked as she declared, "… And he ought to at least wait until he gets to the schoolyard before he starts breaking those hearts."

"So you're going to keep him secluded?"

"I didn't say that," corrected Mac. More seriously she said, "I just think he's really going to like being on a swing, so for as often as he will want to do it, it's best to have it right at home. … And is it so wrong for a mother to want to spend quality time playing with her son when he's at an age to do it, without strangers drawing his attention away? To want him to enjoy family time with me … and his father?"

"… No. Quality time is good," Harm reiterated, noting the way she had looked at him when she referred to the father.

Harm admired her so. "… I bet you'd be great with your son. He might be a tough little guy, but … he'd need you. He'd go to you … for comfort … and security."

Mac got a warm feeling inside and found herself snuggling closer to Harm, cradling his arm that wasn't around her shoulders, as she said, "I'd like to take him in my arms when he's little and read him books. I think he'd like that, … especially adventure stories … and those tales where the hero outsmarts a challenger … like Br'er Rabbit does."

"Why do you think he'd like Br'er Rabbit stories?"

"Because our son won't be a dummy. … He'll like the idea of using wits to get the upper hand every now and then."

"Hmm." Harm remembered something. "… I hope you learn some bedtime stories by the time he's born, so that you can tell him some tales off the cuff when need be. … Maybe you should start reading up now," he suggested.

"I know some stories," Mac objected.

"Really?" Harm asked. "Did you just learn them recently? Or were you lying to me on the Watertown?"

"What?"

"You remember when we were stuck on the submarine."

"How could I forget? … We both almost died courtesy of a sick, psycho killer."

"Things weren't too pleasant before that either …" Harm reminded her.

"No. … Our own little 'cold war,'" acknowledged Mac.

"Yeah. … Well, maybe that was appropriate considering we were underneath solid ice the majority of the time."

Mac remembered, "We went under the North Pole that trip."

Harm chuckled, saying, "Well, if Santa was paying attention below sea level, I don't think he was too happy with how we were acting."

"No. … But, you did save my life," said Mac. "I think that made up for your earlier behavior."

"And you saved mine," he said.

But it wasn't the threat to his life that terrified Harm; it was remembering how, for a few moments on that submarine, Mac had been essentially dead.

"You have no idea how scared I was when you weren't breathing," he admitted with an uncharacteristic show of emotion.

"I might," she disagreed. There was that night his plane went down, not to mention a dozen other times when she really feared for his life. Remembering how this topic came up, she asked, "What does this have to do with my knowledge of children's stories?"

"Oh, …" Harm got back to his point. "On the sub, I was brainstorming one night and wanted to run my ideas by you. … I told you I couldn't sleep. … You snapped at me, saying you didn't know any bedtime stories."

"You remember that?" asked Mac with disbelief. "… I didn't think you even _heard_ half of what I said that trip."

"So, were you lying to me?"

Mac admitted, "It was just a comment to get you to leave me alone."

"You wouldn't have told me a story?"

"I was pretty frustrated with you at the time." She had really believed that he had no faith in her at all. They just didn't seem to be able to see eye to eye.

"You're not upset with me now, are you?" checked Harm.

"Of course not."

"So, would you tell me a story tonight, if I asked?"

"… I don't know …." Something about this whole scenario of being cuddled up with Harm was overwhelming to her, and she was having a hard time recalling things on demand. "…I can't think of anything right now," she admitted.

"That's okay," he said. "I was liking the one you were telling about our son. … Well, _your_ son. So, you'd get him a swing set. Anything else? What about things he asked for?"

"Harm, toddlers don't have the ability to process that kind of thing. They want everything they see … for about five minutes. Then it's forgotten."

"I guess that's true."

"What would such a small child ask for anyway?" Mac pointed out. "At that age, the whole world already seems like his 'toy land' and everything in it for playing with."

"One of the drawbacks to getting older, … we tend to overlook the joys in simple things," commented Harm. "The ability to see the world as our toy land."

Mac thought about that, and it reminded her of an interaction with her godson. "Little AJ once asked me how come big people don't play with toys."

"What did you say?"

"That we still like to play when we have a child to play with. … Then he asked how come we needed a kid in order to play."

"'Cause we'd look stupid otherwise?" suggested Harm.

"I told him we need children to play with because of the good imaginations they have when they're little … and their willingness to believe in almost anything. We lose some of that when we grow up."

Mac took on a sentimental smile as she continued recounting, "… He looked at me and very seriously offered to come over to my place … to help me look for my 'maj-nation,' … the part I lost when I got big."

Harm chuckled. "Out of the mouths of babes. … Makes you wish the world was still your toy land, doesn't it?" he asked wistfully.

"Oh, come on," Mac didn't buy his self pity. "You _still_ play with toys," she insisted. At Harm's confused expression, she explained, "You know what they say. … Men don't grow up. … Their toys just get more expensive. For you, … somewhere in the millions of dollars worth."

"Ah," acknowledged Harm in understanding she was referring to the jet fighters he loved so much. "I guess." He wanted to follow up more about 'their son.'

"… So, if our boy wouldn't need to ask for any toys, what _could_ he desire?"

"I don't know. … Since we're going to provide everything we can to fulfill his basic needs, there's not much he would really be in want of." She thought some more. "… Everything he gets his hands on, he'll want to put in his mouth. … He could probably use his teeth grown in."

"Teeth?"

"Yeah, … I can just see him struggling with a raw carrot that his father tries to give him to eat."

"You don't think he'll like vegetables?"

"I think he _might_ like them. He just wouldn't be able to chew it very well if you don't prepare it for him. … He'd need those front teeth to bite a piece off."

Harm grinned, ready to make a joke. "So, he'd say, 'All I want for Christmas are my two front teeth?'"

Mac laughed. "No, silly. I already told you, toddlers want everything they see. … He can't see teeth that haven't grown in yet. He won't know he's missing them."

"You have a pretty good handle on the thought process of kids, Mac. That's pretty impressive for an only child with no kids of her own yet."

"Well, I do have _some_ experience with the mindset of kids. … Little AJ, Chloe, … you."

"Hey! I can be mature," Harm argued.

Mac continued to tease him. "You can also be juvenile."

"Be nice, or I'm going to take your rock back." He grabbed the gift with his free hand and held it in the air away from her.

"It's not a rock, it's a fossil," Mac corrected, as he had earlier. "… And is this you _not_ being juvenile?"

Harm made a face and then handed the object back. Becoming serious, he said, "I _am_ growing up, Mac."

"I'm glad."

By this time, both Harm and Mac were no longer cold. On the contrary, being this intimately close to each other had them quite warm. They had let the blanket slide down, so it only covered their legs. Harm had loosened his hold on Mac a bit too, but definitely did not break the contact. She was still right there leaning against him.

"You think you could handle a baby in your life?" Mac asked Harm.

"… I'd like to think so," he answered. He was suddenly struck with a notion and, without considering what came out of his mouth next, he muttered, "… There may _be_ a baby in my life soon."

Mac was confused. "What do you mean?"

"Uh, …" Harm became alarmed at what he had said. He had been meaning to keep that theory to himself. But he didn't want to lie to Mac, and he didn't like keeping things from her. "… Just that someone I know is pregnant."

"… Other than Harriet?" Mac asked, sensing that Harm wasn't talking about their good friend. Harm hadn't even known Harriet was pregnant until just now.

Harm tried to smile. "Yeah, … Harriet's got all kinds of support. This other person … will need encouragement, I think." Harm lifted his arm off of Mac, feeling that he had to put some distance between them for some reason. This was just uncomfortable.

Mac had thought that she and Harm had a pretty close relationship, … that she knew most of what was going on in his life. So who else did he know that was pregnant? And why would the baby be in _his_ life? The fact that Harm was physically pulling away from her didn't help Mac feel any better about this.

"Have you been spending time with someone I don't know about?" she asked, trying not to sound hurt.

"No," Harm assured her.

"Then how do you know someone else who's pregnant?"

"… Work."

Mac furrowed her eyebrows, not following. "The only other person from work who is pregnant is …" And it hit Mac like a sack of coal. "… Singer."

Mac was flooded with the memory of Harm's cagey behavior during her investigation regarding the father of Singer's baby. He had definitely been hiding something. Mac was now quickly falling into a state of shock, plummeting farther by Harm's next words.

Staring at the carpet, he quietly admitted, "I think … I might know who the father of her baby is." Harm hung his head in shame.

Mac couldn't believe it, … _wouldn't _believe it. But he did say 'baby is _his_ life soon.' And he was acting guilty.

"This is some sort of sick joke, right?" she exclaimed.

Harm's head snapped up. He hadn't expected Mac to act so harshly. He hadn't even told her who he thought the father was yet.

"… Tell me Singer isn't pregnant with your baby," Mac insisted, desperate to hear otherwise.

How could she maintain the respect she had for Harm if he had … done _that_ … with _Singer?_ … Mac knew she was certainly in no position to cast stones, but … there were _so_ many things wrong with Harm taking Loren to bed, especially at this point in his life. It just didn't make sense given what Mac knew about Harm, and she knew him well.

Harm was shocked at Mac's statement. "_My_ baby? Who said that?" he asked in bewilderment. Was someone starting nasty rumors?

Mac's horror was replaced with total confusion. "You said …"

Harm suddenly realized that, from what he had bumbled out, it would have sounded like he thought he was the father. He had to quickly put a stop to that.

"No, Mac! Not me." His eyes were wide with panic and insistence.

"Then why …?"

"Sergei," he answered.

There was a lengthy period of silence while Mac digested that. Finally, she confirmed her understanding, and replied with deep relief, "Your brother."

Harm nodded, looking away. "I think they … had a thing … before she went out to the carrier."

Mac abruptly began laughing at the absurdity of that coupling, but mostly her giggles were out of relief. Her tension needed to release itself.

"This is not funny," Harm insisted.

Mac was still laughing as she said, "I know." She couldn't help it.

Harm was not amused. Not by his brother. Not by Singer's apparent attitude toward the baby. And certainly not by the fact that Mac could have believed that _he_ would have bedded Loren Singer!

"Did you really think I could have slept with her?" he couldn't help but ask.

"No," Mac answered, quickly sobering. "I couldn't, … which was why I was having such a hard time with …" She started again, "But the way you were …"

"Come on, Mac. _Me and Singer_?" he posed the idea as insane. "… Only in some _very_ bizarre alternate universe where she and I both had _completely_ different personalities than we do in this world, … would she and I _ever_ hook up and have children together."

"I know," said Mac. "That's why I didn't understand." Switching to the real topic, she brought up, "So, … your brother?"

Harm groaned. "I don't want to talk about it tonight."

"Okay." Mac wasn't going to push. "… You could have told me this before, you know?"

"You were leading the investigation," Harm pointed out. "And I wasn't a hundred percent sure of anything."

Mac nodded, somewhat understanding the complications caused by her official duty at the time.

"I'm still not, I guess," added Harm, admitting that although he had good reason to believe his brother was the baby's father, he didn't have any admissions or any solid proof.

Mac could see that Harm was agitated over this subject. Gently she told him, "It's okay, … we don't have to discuss it now. … But thank you for telling me."

Just as she had done in the car earlier that night after Harm's recollection of his painful childhood memory, she reached out to touch Harm and offer what comfort and support she could. He gladly accepted her hand in his.

-----

TBC …

--

A/N: You are lucky; I've decided to divide this up so that this part ends before the potential cliffhanger just around the corner.

I'm thrilled that I got more feedback on the last part than any so far. Thanks! Were you satisfied with the description of their little boy?


	18. Part 18

**Christmas Nigh; Adeste Fi!**

Previously:

_Mac nodded, somewhat understanding the complications caused by her official duty at the time. _

"_I'm still not, I guess," added Harm, admitting that although he had good reason to believe his brother was the baby's father, he didn't have any admissions or any solid proof._

_Mac could see that Harm was agitated over this subject. Gently she told him, "It's okay, … we don't have to discuss it now. … But thank you for telling me." _

_Just as she had done in the car earlier that night after Harm's recollection of his painful childhood memory, she reached out to touch Harm and offer what comfort and support she could. He gladly accepted her hand in his. _

**Part 18**

After a minute of quiet, Harm wanted to get things back to the fun they were having before. He leaned in closer to Mac. "Do you see what I see?" Harm breathed into her ear.

The gentle sensation of the air from his mouth against her made the hair on the back of Mac's neck stand up. "What?" she asked.

"A star," Harm said.

"A star?"

"A shooting star, I think." He tilted his head. "… Actually, it kind of looks like a kite with a long tail."

Mac realized that Harm was eyeing the plate of cookies. They were in various shapes, and one did represent a shooting star.

Harm let go of Mac's hand and began to reach over her to grab a cookie. Mac almost moaned from feeling his body against hers as he stretched across her to access the tray from the coffee table on her side.

"Mmm. This is good," said Harm with a full mouth, as he ate the cookie. He was enjoying the fact that he could use the cookie as an excuse to express satisfaction, covering the real reason for his elation, … the brush against his tantalizing partner's body.

Harm was about to make another comment, when Mac shushed him. Something else had caught her attention.

"Do you hear what I hear?" she asked.

"Huh?"

"Do you hear that? … It sounds like a voice."

"Probably the wind … or a little animal," Harm suggested.

"I don't think it's coming from outside."

"I don't hear anything," Harm admitted. "But it could just be that I'm getting old. I understand that hearing is one of the first things to go," he joked. "Right up there with the mind."

"Hey, you're not that much older than I am, … so can the age talk," Mac ordered. "You are _not_ old."

"I'm just trying to accept that I'm getting to be past my prime," Harm humbly admitted, before assuring her, "But that has no implication on you, Ms. MacKenzie. _You_ are very much _in_ your prime … and will be for a long time, I'm sure."

While she felt flattered, Mac tried to ignore his compliment and instead focus on Harm. "You're not past your prime," she told him, "… whatever that means."

"It means … I'm not at my finest anymore." He wasn't complaining or moping about it, but just trying to lay out the facts. "… Not as attractive as I used to be."

"You're _definitely_ wrong there, Harm," Mac quickly intervened. "If anything, you're more attractive now than when I met you. … You've matured, … well, for the most part," she modified with a small smile.

She looked at him carefully, appreciating what she saw. "You've become more … distinguished, … but no less handsome. You're a _very_ attractive man," she assured him.

Mac saw the corners of Harm's mouth start to turn up, and she quickly averted her eyes away in embarrassment. But a moment later, she couldn't help looking back. She expected Harm to have a full blown grin, reveling in her statements about him.

Instead, he still wore only a small, shy smile, and he looked at her in wonderment, as if what she said meant a great deal to him. It endeared him to her all the more.

Their eyes met, twinkling brightly in the flickering firelight, emotionally drawing each other in to an unspoken connection. Harm's very aura was overwhelming to Mac, and before she knew it, Mac found herself supplementing, "You're _very_ desirable, Harm, … right now."

She had meant 'right now' as in the present day, but somehow as the words left her, it became clear that 'right now,' did, in fact, mean that very moment to her.

Some magnetic pull was drawing her to him … and apparently him to her, because their lips were now just half a foot apart. And ever - so - slowly, that space was closing. There were no thoughts, no awareness really, … only some magical force bringing them together.

Their mouths were mere inches from each other, electricity already sparking between them. Their bodies, lips, and hearts anticipating, seeking, … longing for more of the experience they had tasted in the kitchen earlier.

And then … a knock on the door halted everything.

It may have been the night for 'Ho! Ho! Ho!', but for Harm, … it was **'**No! NO!** NO!'** that screamed inside his head.

… Mac had been about to kiss him. What cruel fate would send someone to interrupt them just as they were about to make a significant connection!?!

And it _would _have been significant. There was nothing to dismiss the meaning of the kiss, nothing to excuse their actions. No mistletoe, no stressful situations, … nothing pushing them together except … their own attraction, … their own special bond.

Mac froze at the abrupt knocking sound. Awareness suddenly setting in, she realized how far she had leaned in toward Harm. She put her hand on his chest now to balance herself and backed her head away from him slightly. But she paused when their eyes locked. Mac didn't want to take her hand away from him, … but the knocking came again, shaking her into reality.

"I guess I should get that," she said hesitantly and nervously.

Harm reluctantly agreed with a whisper. "Yeah, …" At that moment, Mac unconsciously licked her lips, which only flamed Harm's desire for her. He closed his eyes in frustration and an effort to control himself.

Mac forced herself up, which was not an easy thing to do, and went to the door where she absentmindedly started undoing the locks.

Meanwhile, Harm was mentally cursing whoever was out in the hallway. Who would be knocking this late at night?

That thought suddenly snapped him to attention as he realized Mac was undoing the locks without finding out who was waiting on the other side.

"Mac, … check to see who's there," he reminded her before she opened the door.

Mac hadn't been thinking and had completely forgotten safety protocol. She looked out the peephole. "The power is out, so it's dark," she observed.

Instead of asking who was there, as she would have done if she were operating without the mind numbing feelings stirred in her less than a minute before, Mac began to open the door just a crack.

Harm started to get up, wanting to be ready to protect Mac if some crazy psycho killer was trying to worm his way into her apartment.

As Mac peeked out, she saw a familiar woman whose son, about twelve, stood next to her.

Startled by the opening door, the woman looked up at Mac. "Oh, hi. … Wow, I didn't think you'd actually be home. I know you went out earlier, … and with the weather …"

"I'm here," Mac confirmed the obvious. "What's up?"

"We're really sorry to bother you this late at night … especially Christmas Eve, but we had a mis-"

Mac had opened the door wider, giving the lady a sudden view of Harm which momentarily caused her to pause.

"-hap." She glanced back at Mac with embarrassment. "You have company," she noted. The woman then let her eyes go back to Harm, noting that both he and Mac seemed to be in night clothes. Then she spotted the cozy looking arrangement by the fire.

"We really shouldn't be here," the woman declared. "Bobby, we'll try to handle this on our own. Mac has company."

The boy spoke for the first time, objecting to his mother's suggestion. "She needs to fix him!"

In his arms, Bobby was cradling what appeared to be a bird wrapped up in a towel.

"What's the problem?" Mac asked.

"It's Frosty," answered Bobby. He held up the parrot, so she could see. "He's hurt. You can fix him."

Mac was no vet and didn't know why Bobby thought she would be able to help.

Seeing Mac's confusion, the boy's mother explained, "I'm sorry. He knows you're military, like his dad. And he's convinced that his dad can do anything. He thinks you all are trained to deal with everything, … even bleeding birds."

"Well, we do get basic first aid training," Harm offered.

This reminded Mac that her visitors didn't know each other. "Uh, Kelly, this is Harmon Rabb. He … works at JAG with me … and is snowed in here tonight. Harm, this is my downstairs neighbor, Kelly, and her son Bobby. Bobby's dad is in the Army and is currently deployed in Afghanistan."

"Nice to meet you," Harm offered his hand and smile in greeting to the mother. After he shook Kelly's hand, he bent down to Bobby. "So, what's wrong with your bird?"

"His name's Frosty. Dad named him that because he's all blue and white. … I had Frosty out of the cage when the lights went out, and he sort of freaked. He's always in his cage when it's totally dark."

Kelly added, "He's a very temperamental bird. Doesn't deal well with changes. Creature of habit, needing things just the right light, noise, temperature. … Surprisingly, he likes it on the colder side, … another reason for the name."

"Then he should be very comfortable in here," Mac said, remembering that the temperature in her apartment was freezing at the moment. Although, given her position by the fire a minute ago … with a certain man, she currently wasn't cold at all.

"Come on in," she invited. "I'm not sure what we can do, … but we can look."

Harm suggested, "Bobby why don't we lay Frosty on the table in there. He's not going to fly away, is he?"

"No, I've sort of got him wrapped up," the boy answered.

"Did you want anything while you're here?" asked Mac. "Not much I can offer with the power out, but I do have cookies. Bobby?"

He nodded. Mac picked up the cookie platter and a candle and handed them to Harm. "Here, take these with you to the table. I'll be right there. I'm going to see what kind of first aid stuff I've got."

Harm and Bobby went to the table, while Kelly hung behind with Mac, who was picking up a flashlight to go searching in her bathroom.

"I'm really sorry about interrupting your romantic night," Kelly apologized. Before Mac had a chance to process what Kelly was implying, the woman continued, "So how long have you been dating this guy?"

"We're not dating," Mac explained. As they walked by the fireplace, Mac saw Kelly eying the little cove set up in front of the fire with a single blanket discarded on the floor.

At Kelly's skeptical countenance that followed, Mac realized that her neighbor was still thinking that she and Harm were involved. "We're _just_ good friends," Mac insisted.

"He's seeing someone else?" Kelly asked.

"No," Mac answered, reaching the bathroom.

"Then _why_ are you _just_ friends? That man is gorgeous, and he's absolutely delicious enough to eat."

"Kelly, you're married!" Mac scolded with a bit of wide eyed surprise at her neighbor's comment. She wasn't sure if it was more upsetting that a married woman was ogling another man or that _any_ other woman was ogling Harm.

"Doesn't mean I can't look," Kelly insisted. Getting a little somber, she added, "And with my husband gone, … it's hard."

Mac knew that deployment was difficult for families, especially during the holidays. That was one of the few benefits Mac had of being single and alone. Even on her shorter missions, there was no one left behind missing her.

Things were hard for those in the military. A lot of sacrifices are made. But sometimes people forget how difficult life can be for the families left behind of the service members who are overseas.

Mac looked at Kelly with sympathy. "How're you coping?"

"… Okay," the other woman answered. "I miss him. Bobby misses him. He worships the ground his father walks on."

Mac smiled a little, thinking of someone else who had a deep-seated adoration of his father.

"If there's anything I can do, …" Mac offered.

Kelly grinned mischievously, replying, "Be honest with me about you and the incredibly sexy guy in your apartment."

Even though the bathroom was mostly dark, Kelly could see that Mac did not approve of her request. "… My man is across the world," Kelly complained, which turned into pleading. "Let me live vicariously."

Mac shook her head at the begging, as she picked up the supplies she had gathered. But she well-naturedly replied, "Then you'd better find someone else to live vicariously through, because the extent of my love life right now is the cheap romance novel I picked up a few months ago when there was nothing else at the airport."

"I don't buy that nothing's going on between you two," said Kelly.

Mac headed back out through the living room. "Believe me, … Harm and I are … just … very close friends."

"So, …" Kelly looked back at the blanket on the floor as they passed the fireplace again, "we didn't interrupt anything?"

Mac stopped and opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. She wasn't sure exactly what _had_ been happening between Harm and her before the knock at the door.

Kelly interpreted Mac's silence and facial expression and responded both excitedly and apologetically, "We _did_ interrupt something!"

Mac started blushing, and she knew it. She wasn't going to comment. "… We'd better check on the boys," Mac stated and quickly made a bee line into the other room.

"So what do we have?" Mac asked the two guys.

Harm answered, "Looks like Frosty managed to cut himself up pretty good. He's bleeding from at least two places."

"He totally spazzed out," said Bobby, referring to Frosty's behavior after the power went out. "I don't know what happened. I had him perched on the broomstick … We were playing. And then everything went berserk."

Kelly supplemented, "I was in the other room, and I heard all kinds of ruckus, banging, and screeching. Then it got quiet. … But he only paused a moment when I heard Bobby holler, 'Stop!'"

"I was trying to catch him, but he was flying here and there, all around in a square … to each corner of the room," Bobby explained. "I can usually get him pretty quick, but it was so dark …"

"You obviously got him eventually," Harm praised the boy.

Blood was soaking through the towel surrounding Frosty. Mac handed Harm some cotton balls and he pressed them against the points of bleeding.

"Unfortunately, I don't have any antiseptics, so I hope pressure's enough to stop the bleeding," said Mac.

"What if it doesn't stop?" Bobby anxiously asked. He could just imagine poor Frosty ending up in nothing more than a puddle of blood.

His mother answered, "Hopefully, we won't have to worry about that possibility." She brushed her hand through her son's hair.

"Hey, Mac," said Harm. "I know it's unlikely in your kitchen, … but do you have any flour or corn starch?"

Mac shot him a look without remark, before going into the kitchen. She came back a moment later with a bag of flour.

"What do you think those cookies got made out of?" she asked him, pointing at the serving platter.

"_You_ made these cookies?" Harm asked in surprise. "I'm impressed. … I didn't even gag," he joked.

"Hey," Mac objected. "I _can_ cook … and bake when I want to. … Plus, _I'm_ not the one with the history of producing toxic waste in loaf form," she shot back.

"There was nothing wrong with my meatless meatloaf," Harm insisted defensively.

Bobby looked at Harm, making a face. "How do you have meatloaf with no meat?"

"Exactly," Mac agreed.

"Well," Kelly jumped in, "these cookies are very good, Mac."

"Thank you."

"I'd say Bobby likes them too," the mother added.

The boy was now working on his third. "Yeah, … they're good."

"I'm glad you're enjoying them," Mac smiled at the boy.

Harm had applied some flour to the bleeding areas, but upon closer examination, he said, "You know, I think this one is a blood feather. … I'm pretty sure you have to remove the whole feather to get it to stop bleeding."

"I didn't know you knew so much about birds," commented Mac.

"I don't," Harm answered. "… But I do know a thing or two about wings." He flashed his smile at her, before asking, "… You got tweezers?"

"Yeah."

"See if you can remove that shaft right there," he told her.

"Won't that just make it bleed more?" asked Bobby.

"No, … I think it'll heal better if the blood's not being pulled down through this feather," said Harm. "… But I guess we do need your consent to do this little operation. Do we have your okay?"

Bobby looked to his mom, who shrugged.

"He sounds like he knows what he's talking about," she said. "I think we need to put our faith in him."

"I guess if he's a marine, he knows what he's doing," Bobby admitted, ready to agree.

"Actually, … I'm not a marine," Harm pointed out. He saw Bobby looking with confusion at the sweatshirt he was wearing. "… I'm just borrowing the shirt from the marine here," Harm explained nodding toward Mac.

"I thought you worked together?" Bobby asked.

"We do," said Mac. "We're just not in the same branch of the military."

"I'm Navy," Harm declared.

"Oh," replied Bobby, with a look of disapproval. "Dad says the Navy's full of wimps."

"Bobby!" his mother scolded.

"He does," the boy emphasized to his mom. "… Says Army can beat Navy any day. And sailors don't fight; … they just sit on boats. At least marines know how to fight."

Mac grimaced. "I see the Army/Navy rivalry is alive and well."

"There _are _other ways of fighting," Harm informed the boy. "Your dad's never flown a Tomcat into combat," he pointed out with pride.

"No, … but that's just sitting in a big machine," said Bobby unimpressed. "It's not dangerous. … The Air Force is full of pansies too."

"I wasn't talking about the Air Force. The Navy has its own planes that launch off carriers," Harm informed him.

Mac added, "And flying can be just as dangerous as ground combat. A lot of pilots have lost their lives flying missions."

"Don't they just eject?" Bobby indifferently asked.

"They don't always have time," Mac answered.

"And even when they do," said Harm with a distant stare, "… sometimes the result is worse than dying."

His thoughts drifted to POW camps and his father, the physical pain and lasting injuries from ejecting … His own recoveries had been hard enough, but he knew pilots who had been through worse … Then there was the guilt, … especially when the other person in the plane doesn't survive, … like his RIO after his own ramp strike.

Due to Harm's comment, Mac knew the type of things he was thinking about. She also knew that Bobby wouldn't understand any of it. So she needed to steer this conversation to a better subject matter for her sailor and restore Harm's image in Bobby's mind.

"Well, regardless," she said, "Harm here has had enough ground action to qualify him as an honorary marine. I wouldn't let him wear that sweatshirt otherwise."

Mac gave Harm a quick, reassuring smile, before adding, "And believe me, he's got more courage than anyone I've ever met, … including all the marines I know, … and that says a lot."

Harm was touched at how Mac was defending him, and for a few seconds couldn't help but focus on her with appreciation.

"Anyway," Harm decided to move on, "we should take care of Frosty here, okay? … We'll let Mac do the surgery."

"… Yeah," Bobby decided. "Okay."

---

TBC …

----

A/N: Thanks so much for the feedback! So, how many of you were internally screaming 'No, No, No!' just like Harm was when there was a knock at the door?

I don't do it to be cruel … Really, it's for the greater good of the storyline. More development, more fun, more Christmas references, … and the guests will eventually leave, with plenty of story to follow.

Anybody keeping a list of the Christmas allusions to send to me when this story is done? If so, how's that going?


	19. Part 19

**Christmas Nigh; Adeste Fi!**

Previously:

_Harm had applied some flour to the bleeding areas, but upon closer examination, he said, "You know, I think this one is a blood feather. … I'm pretty sure you have to remove the whole feather to get it to stop bleeding."_

"_I didn't know you knew so much about birds," commented Mac._

"_I don't," Harm answered. "… But I do know a thing or two about wings." He flashed his smile at her, before asking, "… You got tweezers?"_

"_Yeah."_

"_See if you can remove that shaft right there," he told her._

…

"_Anyway," Harm decided to move on, "we should take care of Frosty here, okay? … We'll let Mac do the surgery."_

"… _Yeah," Bobby decided. "Okay."_

**Part 19**

With Harm assisting, Mac used the tweezers to carefully remove the blood feather. The procedure seemed to be successful, but Frosty did not react well and was visibly suffering anxiety. The parrot almost bit Harm a few times. Fortunately, Harm's reflexes were good, despite the cold, and he was able to avoid any Frosty bites.

"Frosty's not happy," Bobby noted.

His mother responded, "Of course he's not, Sweetheart. He's hurting. I just hope he stays calm enough."

"Let's wrap him up with the gauze," Mac suggested. "It might not be comfortable, but this needs to heal without him agitating it."

"I guess," Bobby reluctantly agreed. He stroked the bird's head, saying, "It's okay Frosty. They're gonna take care of you."

Mac and Harm wrapped Frosty up around the bleeding areas and put tape around it to hold.

"Uh oh," said Harm noticing something else. "His foot's bleeding too."

"Don't wrap his claws up too," begged Bobby. "That would be like a total straight jacket."

"You know," said Mac. "I think I've got just the thing." She left the room, taking the flashlight and quickly returned with a bottle of clear nail polish.

"This should seal it off," she said.

"Nail polish?" Harm questioned.

"Has many uses," Mac declared as she applied it to the bloody claw.

"Did you see that in a movie too?" Harm asked, obviously referring to her stunt with the mine in Afghanistan.

"Of course not," she replied. "… This was from a TV show." She smiled at Harm, and he rolled his eyes.

"Mom, Frosty doesn't look good," Bobby complained. "I think he might be going into spasms or something."

Mac observed, "Looks like he's having a panic attack."

The word, 'panic' put Bobby into a state of just that. "Dad told me not to let Frosty get stressed out or he might have a heart attack and die. He can't die! … Dad told me to take care of him."

"Honey, calm down," Kelly told her son. "You're not helping Frosty this way."

"He can't die!"

"He won't die," said Harm.

"How do you know?"

"He just needs to feel comfortable," Harm explained. "… Does he have a favorite toy?"

"I don't think he's in shape to be playing with anything right now," Bobby told Harm as if the older man was an idiot for not realizing that the bird was incapacitated.

Harm was undeterred. "How about something he likes to listen to?"

Kelly answered, "He likes the bells in his cage. Frosty hits them with his beak a lot, but he also likes it when we come by and ring the bells with our fingers."

"Do the bells come out of the cage?" Harm asked.

"Yeah," Kelly answered. "Should I get them?"

"Please," Harm nodded.

"Mom!" Bobby protested. He didn't want her to leave. "He's gonna have a heart attack and die."

His mother didn't even bother to answer. She just said, "I'll be right back," and left to retrieve the bells.

"Mac, …" Harm started, considering something.

"You've got an idea," Mac realized.

"It's worth a try," Harm affirmed. "You got any leftover chopsticks from all the Chinese takeout you order?"

"Uh … yeah."

"How about twist ties?"

"Let me check." Mac very quickly came back with the items.

Bobby was ignoring them, focused solely on the bird. "He's not gonna make it, is he? He's gonna have a seizure or something."

"We just need to calm him down," said Mac. Harm handed her a set of chopsticks and a twist tie.

"Bind these together," he told her.

"Frosty," Bobby whined. "Don't die like this. Don't die now."

"He's going to be fine," Harm told Bobby.

"You don't know that," Bobby yelled. "You don't know anything!"

"I know that you -"

Bobby didn't let Harm finish. "Do you what _I_ know? … He's shivering. He's freakin' out! And if he dies, … I'm a failure. Dad told me to take care of him. He's _my_ responsibility. Dad's gonna hate me."

"He won't hate you," Harm gently told the boy.

"No, he won't," Bobby's mother gently echoed as she appeared in the doorway holding three sets of bells. Two silver and one gold.

"Yes, he will," Bobby argued, starting to get tears in his eyes. "I was supposed to take care of Frosty. It's going to be my fault that he dies. … I should have been able to get him back in his cage before he went all spazzo and hurt himself." He couldn't keep from crying anymore. "I shouldn't have even had him out tonight …"

"Hey, don't give in to feeling guilty," Harm scolded Bobby, before explaining, "I've been the king of guilt, … and, trust me, it's not worth it. Listen to what I say … No matter what happens, this is _not_ your fault. It was an accident. … Your Dad will understand that."

"No he won't. He told me I was responsible for Frosty."

"Sometimes parents say things," explained Harm, "… to give their child a chance to take responsibility … so the child can learn to feel good about something and take pride in that kind of accomplishment. … But that doesn't mean … that a father won't understand when something happens outside his son's control."

"But Dad loves Frosty."

Kelly put her arms around her son. "He loves you more."

"I'm sure your father just wants you to be happy," Harm added. "A child brings so much goodness and light into people's lives. That's the most valued thing to most parents, … and I'm sure that you are your dad's pride and joy. He's not going to think less of you … especially for an accident."

Though Mac enjoyed watching Harm mentor the boy, she observed that the bird appeared to be hyperventilating. So, she intervened, with command presence. "But right now, we need to take care of this parrot. He's still depending on you," she told Bobby.

"So no giving up yet," she ordered. "Snap to, Private," Mac used a quiet version of her drill instructor's voice.

Bobby reflexively straightened himself up. He wiped the tears from his eyes, got himself together and asked, "What do I do?"

Mac had finished assembling the make-shift stand, made of five chopsticks bound tightly together. It resembled a swing set, especially now that she and Harm hung the sets of bells from it.

Harm picked up an extra chopstick and used it to ring the gold bell. "Give him his favorite sound," he answered.

Harm handed the wooden stick over to Bobby and explained, "… This way your arm won't get tired of ringing."

Bobby looked at Harm skeptically. "I'm just supposed to ring the bells? That's gonna magically make him better?"

"Yeah," answered Harm, ringing the gold bell again, this time with his finger.

Bobby shook his head. "It's the silver bells that are his favorite." He reluctantly hit a set of the silver bells with the chopstick. "This is supposed to work?"

Mac encouraged him, "Talk to him, … sooth him. Give him your strength and let him know everything's going to be okay."

"But I don't know that it will be," Bobby objected.

"You have to believe it," Harm told him.

"That ringing bells is going to help him live? … That's stupid," the boy declared.

"I don't think it is," his mother said. "_I_ believe."

Mac added, "You _need_ to believe it, … to help make it true."

"Fine," Bobby relented.

Harm wanted more enthusiasm. "Let me hear you say it, soldier, … that you believe."

Bobby muttered, "I believe." He immediately got three glares at his unsatisfactory tone. Defensively, he repeated it with a bit more insistence. "I _believe_. … It's silly, … but I believe," he muttered the last sentence under his breath.

The boy sighed deeply, and then began to tap on the bells with the chopstick. "It's okay, Frosty." With his free hand, Bobby stroked the bird's head. "Hear the silver bells? … You like that, don't you? … Ring-a-ling. … Hear them ring? Sure you do. Just like always. And you're gonna be okay. Everything's okay. … You'll be all better tomorrow."

After a period of time with Bobby comforting the bird with his words, touch, and, of course, the bells, Frosty did appear to calm.

The adults stood in rapt attention at the caring boy working so hard to make everything better for the bird. When everything appeared okay, Harm excused himself to use the bathroom.

Meanwhile, after all this time away from the fire and Harm, Mac was becoming very cold, especially since she was not moving around at all. She had her arms crossed, trying to keep the warmth in. Every once in awhile she rubbed her hands over herself, trying to use friction to generate heat.

Mac suddenly felt a presence behind her and then a warm blanket being wrapped around her shoulders. Harm had picked up the cover when he walked by the fireplace on his way back.

"Thanks," Mac said over her shoulder, looking up at him appreciatively as she pulled the blanket tighter around her.

Harm nodded slightly in acknowledgement, and then went on to embrace her from behind, sliding his arms down hers, taking over the job of rubbing over them to create warmth.

That felt _so_ good. Mac happily let him surround her with his heat and comfort.

Harm finally took his mind off how good it felt to have Mac in his arms this way, and noted, "Frosty seems to be calming down."

"Yeah," Bobby agreed, in a tired, but relieved voice.

"I think we can probably take him back to our place now," Kelly decided. "… Maybe get him to sleep." She thought her son needed to go to bed too. She was glad that he seemed to have gotten less upset as the bird did. "Bobby, you ready to go?"

Her son nodded his head. "Yeah."

"Hey," offered Mac, "since you seem to like the cookies, and I have a ton of them, how about I wrap some up for you to take?"

"Okay," Bobby agreed.

Mac started off to the kitchen, flashlight in hand, when Kelly impulsively decided to follow. "Let me help with that."

When they were alone, Kelly whispered, "Ok, Mac. … Don't tell me there's nothing between you two. A guy who is _just_ a friend, doesn't warm a woman up like that."

"What?"

"I saw the way he touched you when he draped the blanket over you, … the way he held you. … And the way you cozied right up to him."

Mac searched for a response. "… Harm and I … have been through some … intense life or death adventures together. It's become … necessary that we feel comfortable being close … and looking out for each other."

"You're saying the two of you are so … close, because of working in the military together?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"I doubt my husband ever lets any of the guys in his platoon hold him like that, … and if he does, … I'm going to be worried."

--

Meanwhile, in the other room, Harm asked Bobby, "So does Frosty talk at all? … Or does he just make noises?"

"Dad taught him to say one phrase. But that's it. I haven't had any luck with him. He's kind of a dumb bird. … But I like him anyway." Cautiously looking up at Harm, Bobby asked, "… He's going to live, right?"

"Yes," said Harm.

"You promise?"

"I do."

Bobby made a face. "How do I know you're not full of it?"

Mac walked in at that moment. "Harm can be full of many things," she said, teasing her partner, before seriously assuring the boy, "… but he has yet to make a promise he can't keep."

Bobby accepted that, but felt the need to add, "I still think the Navy's stupid."

"Bobby," his mother said, "you and I are going to have to talk with your father when he comes home about respect of others."

"I respect people," her son said. "… I respect Mac." Looking at her, he said, "I'm glad you've got your regular hair back. … I saw you leave before. I don't like your hair all poofed out."

When Mac had changed into her pajamas, she had brushed her hair back, so it now laid as it normally did.

"Bobby!" his mother scolded again. "Sorry. He tends to say whatever he thinks."

"That's okay," said Mac.

"Last week," Kelly told them, "when we were out shopping, he told one man he should shave his head because he was balding anyway … and some woman that she needed an attitude adjustment. … And then we ran into one of his classmates, … a girl. He introduced her to me as the 'sort of nerdy girl.' When he realized I didn't approve of the comment, he tried to make things better. He said she was cute, … but too tall for any guys to take her seriously."

"… At least he's honest," said Harm with amusement.

Bobby was getting tired, but was still with it enough to follow the conversation. "Mom was real mad," he commented. "She said I'm getting … nuttin'," he yawned, "... for Christmas."

"That was after the stunt you pulled with your teacher," his mother supplemented. "… I had to leave work to conference with Mr. Gordon."

Harm couldn't help but ask Bobby, "Did something that got you caught?"

"No," the boy answered, half asleep. "Somebody snitched on me."

"But he's been a good boy since then, … so there's hope for a gift or two." Kelly brushed her hand through her son's hair.

"You'd better get to bed," Mac told Bobby, "or you're going to fall asleep on your feet."

"Come on; you get Frosty; I'll take the bells," said Kelly to her son.

Harm placed the bird in the boy's arms.

Kelly looked at Harm and Mac with gratitude. "Thanks for everything tonight."

"No problem," answered Mac.

"Let's go," Kelly said to Bobby, gently nudging him to move. But the boy was completely stiff and rooted in his spot. "It's like you're made of wood. Come on, work with me here, Bobby."

"A wooden soldier, huh?" Harm tried to help by appealing to Bobby's love of the military. "Hey, Mac, what skill does the Army instill in their recruits that requires an almost wood-like stiffness?"

"Marching," she replied.

Harm took his turn with the drill sergeant voice. "Attention! … Eyes open, soldier. About face!"

Bobby did as ordered, and faced the door.

Turning to Kelly, Harm said, "Make him march, Major Mom."

He started her off …"Now, … march, two, three, four. … Hup, two, three, four …"

Kelly picked up counting off and Bobby started out the door. She looked behind at Harm and Mac when she made it to the hallway, and Mac said, "Merry Christmas."

Kelly stopped counting and paused to say, "You too. Thanks again." She looked at Harm, and politely told him, "It was nice to meet you."

"You too."

Addressing them both, Kelly said with a sly smile, "Well, I'll let you two get back to … whatever it was you were doing …"

At the end of her suggestion, Kelly moved a step to be out of Harm's view and winked at Mac. Then she turned to her son, who, without prompting, had become still once again.

"Alright soldier, back to marching off to bed. … Hup, two, three, four, … hup, two, three, four …"

"Good night," Mac called after them and then closed the door as the sounds of marching became more distant.

-----

TBC …

-----

A/N: By the way, Bobby and Kelly are entirely made up by me; … they do not belong to the 'official' JAG universe. What did you think of them?

Next up … the beginning of the 'never before seen anywhere' rest of this story (_i.e_. if you've previously seen parts of this story on another site, … I'm finally getting to the entirely new stuff).

And thanks for the feedback!

--Teacup (of JAG)


	20. Part 20

**Christmas Nigh; Adeste Fi!**

Previously:

_Addressing them both, Kelly said with a sly smile, "Well, I'll let you two get back to … whatever it was you were doing …" _

_At the end of her suggestion, Kelly moved a step to be out of Harm's view and winked at Mac. Then she turned to her son, who, without prompting, had become still once again. _

"_Alright soldier, back to marching off to bed. … Hup, two, three, four, … hup, two, three, four …"_

"_Good night," Mac called after them and then closed the door as the sounds of marching became more distant._

**Part 20**

It was an awkward moment that followed. Harm wanted nothing more than to get back to what they were about to do before the knock on the door. He wanted to close the distance between their lips. If Mac had been his girlfriend, he would simply say, 'Now, where were we?' without it really being a question at all. Then he would take her in his arms and kiss her until the reindeer came home.

But given that the status of their relationship was unclear and … precarious at the moment, he didn't think that would go over too well. Maybe he should just suggest they follow the advice of Mac's neighbor and cozy up again by the fire.

Harm was afraid that if he blatantly brought up what had almost happened, Mac would again declare the subject off limits for tonight. So, he was trying to come up with a subtle way of recreating the moment.

Mac interrupted his thoughts. "Well, that was fun," she said with some sarcasm.

"Actually, it was," said Harm, "… kinda." It was not as much fun as locking lips with his favorite marine would have been, but it was nice to work together with Mac to help people out.

"Yeah, it was," Mac conceded, also enjoying how they had operated together.

Having just observed the half asleep boy reminded Mac that it was bedtime for most people. "… It _is_ pretty late. You tired?" she checked with Harm, though she was hoping he would stay up and spend some more time with her.

On the inside, Harm couldn't help but ask himself, 'Is she kidding?' He had a ton of adrenaline in his system tonight from the events of the day. First of all, he'd gotten to fly a jet, something that always gave him a high.

But that was nothing compared to tonight. Kissing Mac like he'd never kissed anyone before, … spending the night at her place, and … almost, _almost_, _**almost**_ having Mac kiss him again … but without any mistletoe to excuse it. His mind was on overdrive trying to figure out how to get her to go through with that kiss now that the visitors were gone.

"Not really," Harm answered, remembering that he needed to tell her that he wasn't tired.

"Me neither," declared Mac, also quite full of excitement and energy. She had walked over to the table and started fidgeting with the remaining single chopstick, though she wasn't aware of what she was doing. Her mind was otherwise occupied with how she, as Kelly had suggested, wanted to continue right where she left off with Harm. … But … the moment had gone.

"So, uh," Harm began in an effort to get past the slight unease in the air. "… When did you get into baking cookies?"

Mac shrugged. "I do it every now and then. I guess the other day I just felt the need to get into the Christmas spirit. We've all been so busy with work and everything. I was driving by the store, taking Bud home because Harriet had the car for some errands. He and I were talking about all the serious stuff from work, and … I just thought that some festivity would be good."

Mac's mind flashed back to that car ride:

------

"You know what we need, Bud?"

"No, ma'am."

"We need a little Christmas." Mac suddenly turned the car, pulling into the parking lot of a store they were just about to pass.

"Right this very minute?" Bud asked, bracing himself against the car door as they made the sharp turn. The look of surprise on Bud's face was a classic.

"… Right this very minute," Mac confirmed.

------

"I hope Harriet was okay with you taking her husband on a detour," Harm commented.

"She was fine with it," Mac assured him. "Especially when Bud came home with some new decorations and fun activities to occupy little AJ." After a moment, she added, "I was going to make a fake gingerbread house as well as the cookies, but I didn't have time."

"Fake?" Harm questioned.

"Using graham crackers instead of gingerbread. I got a bunch of candy for decorating it and some marshmallows for snow."

Harm made an odd face. "Marshmallows are not cold and slippery like snow is," he pointed out, thinking of his snow descriptors from earlier.

"But they are white and fluffy," countered Mac. "… Haven't you ever heard that 'winter is a marshmallow world?'"

"Sure." Harm began to sing, "_It's a marshmallow world in the winter, take a ride with your favorite girl_." He paused and then asked, "Or is it a walk?" He couldn't remember, but then he shrugged and happily declared, "I got to take a ride with my favorite girl today."

Mac remembered that he had been flying earlier and figured he was referencing the plane. Although she would have thought that a different airplane would have been his 'favorite,' … not a random Navy jet.

She joked, "You'll make Sarah jealous."

This confused Harm. Mac was speaking of herself in the third person? And why would she be jealous of herself? Was she referring to that whole Mac/Sarah dichotomy they had been discussing earlier?

"Sarah?" he finally repeated.

"Your biplane," Mac explained, a little perplexed at Harm's reaction.

'Oh, _that_ Sarah,' Harm thought. But he was still confused. Why would his Steerman be envious of Mac? So he asked her, "Why would 'Sarah' be jealous?"

"If she heard you saying that your favorite girl was a Navy jet." Mac was starting to reconsider her theory that Harm had actually hurt his head when he fell on the sidewalk earlier that night … because he currently seemed a little out of it.

But then Harm clarified, "I wasn't talking about planes, Mac."

"Oh." Mac actually looked disappointed at that.

It meant there was another girl in his life? Someone else who he … Wait, … he'd been on a carrier. She didn't think he would know any females _that_ well out there. That wasn't even a carrier he had served on in the past. Skates wasn't there. It was Admiral Boone who rode with him on the way back and went to visit the Wall with him. No girls there. Then Harm had come to the Roberts' house, and then … he drove _her_, Sarah MacKenzie, to church, drove _her_ to his apartment, and drove _her_ back here to her own apartment.

She looked up at him, having finally processed all that. "_I'm_ your favorite girl?"

"Of course you are. … You're my best friend," he told her with a confident smile.

Her heart fluttered. But it was the term 'best friend,' that reminded Mac not to let herself get carried away by his statement.

"So, my 'favorite girl,'" Harm addressed her, "… how about we work on that graham cracker house now?"

Mac considered his suggestion. She might end up eating more of the candy than decorating with it. She had a sudden craving for chocolate. Maybe it was just the frustration of being so close to this man without being able to have him. She had to indulge in something.

She was still twirling the chopstick in her hand. Suddenly, looking at the stick, Mac was inspired.

"I've got a better idea," she said, with eyes alight.

'Yes!' thought Harm, hoping the better idea would involve some more of what they'd shared under the mistletoe earlier. He desperately wanted her to finish what she had started prior to the interruption, when she had brought her mouth so close to his.

"Well, we've got graham crackers, chocolate, … a fire," Mac listed with growing excitement, "_and_ marshmallows for toasting … Let's make s'mores! … I've got skewers in the kitchen."

That was not exactly what Harm had been hoping for, but it was not a bad thought. The idea of it reminded him of camping as a child. If it were a bunch of boys around a fire tonight, there would be scary ghost stories. Maybe a few classic tales of glories from adventures long, long ago. But this was Christmas, and story-telling should be about the holiday.

Of course, for Harm, he had a story about a Christmas long ago - 1969. It was an adventure story and a scary story, and yes, even a ghost story – for whether or not his dead father had ever actually 'appeared' to Harm in the last few years, his father's past and disappearance had haunted him. Harm Sr.'s spirit was ever present and making itself known in his son's life. But Harm was not going to dwell on that story now. He had already paid his father homage at the Wall tonight. It was time to focus on the present and future.

A few minutes later, they were again seated by the fire, but this time with all kinds of supplies.

"Are you sure this is safe to do inside?" asked Harm.

"Safer than roasting chestnuts," Mac assured him. "… Just be careful." She handed him a skewer.

He took it, and said, "You know, … all this tonight reminds me of a joke I heard once …"

"Oh yeah?" she asked, distributing a marshmallow to each of them.

Harm went straight into his funny story. "… There once was this bird, … a lot like Frosty, … only smarter … and less prone to 'spazzing out,' as Bobby would say."

Harm pushed his marshmallow onto the skewer. "… Anyway, this bird's name was Chex, and he could sing Christmas carols. His owner had trained Chex to sing 'Jingle Bells' when someone lit a match and put it under the bird's left foot."

"That sounds kind of cruel," noted Mac.

"The bird just lifted up his leg … he didn't actually get burned," Harm explained. He wished Mac would go along without questioning. This was just a joke after all. "… So when you put a match under his left foot, Chex sang 'Jingle Bells.' When you put the lit match under his right foot, Chex would lift up that leg instead, and sing 'Deck the Halls.'"

"One day," Harm continued, "the owner was showing these tricks off to some friends, when he got distracted and the match ended right between the bird's legs."

"At which point, Chex flew away to animal control and sang a song about pet abuse?" Mac guessed.

"No."

"He bit his owner?"

"_No_, … he sang another Christmas carol." Harm demonstrated, singing, "… _Chex' nuts roasting on an open fire_."

Mac shook her head, smiling, but definitely not laughing at the bad joke. She was pretty sure that birds didn't even have the referenced external anatomy.

"Hey, come on, that was funny," Harm insisted, complaining about her lack of reaction.

"Maybe it was the delivery," she jabbed.

"Well, you kept interrupting," he complained.

"I'm sure that's it," Mac sarcastically agreed. "… But still, … don't quit your day job."

Harm chuckled, before declaring, "Nah, I'd never give up the Navy. … Except for something more important, … and there are very few things on that list."

"You have a list?" Mac questioned.

"Well, … it would have to be for a greater purpose, … for something or someone that meant more to me than the Navy."

"Like you risked your career to find your father? … Your brother?"

"You risked yours to save your uncle," Harm reminded her, thinking about when they had first met.

"Yeah," Mac agreed. Then she reflected, "… At the time, he was the most important person in my life."

"Has he fallen in favor?" Harm quite seriously asked, wondering if something had happened after Uncle Matt went to Leavenworth for stealing the Declaration of Independence. If she wasn't mad at him for doing that, despite his good intentions, … what else could her uncle have done to earn her disapproval?

"No," Mac answered. "… I'd still risk my career for him, my life. … We do that for those we love."

"Yeah," Harm agreed. For some reason, images of Mac following him to Russia flooded his mind. He knew he would give up his career and his life for her in a heartbeat.

"And those we feel greatly indebted to," she added.

Well, she credited her uncle with drying her out, Harm thought. Though he figured she probably didn't give herself enough credit for that feat.

Mac soon broke him out of his reverie. "You may want to turn your marshmallow there, Harm."

He hadn't been paying attention, and only one side of his marshmallow was browned. Harm rotated the skewer, but the melted goo inside wouldn't hold the marshmallow in place any longer, and the browned, heavy side remained on the bottom.

No matter how much or how fast Harm turned it, the marshmallow slid back into the same position. There was no way to brown the other side. Harm groaned.

"Maybe you should give that one up," Mac suggested. "It'll still work for you in your s'more."

He looked over at her marshmallow. It was perfectly browned all around. "How did you get yours so good?"

Mac shrugged and smiled. "Must be because I'm a Marine, … and _we_, unlike wimpy squids, can do anything." She put her s'more together quite efficiently.

"That's it," Harm objected, pointing at Mac for emphasis, "no more hanging around Bobby for you."

But Mac knew Harm was kidding, just as she had been.

Harm proceeded to put his own s'more together. Or attempt to anyhow. He was having trouble.

Mac got a twinkle in her eye. "Harm, … do you need help with that?"

-----

TBC …

---

A/N: I take no credit for the bird 'joke.' I heard it somewhere once, a long time ago; I don't know its origin.

Hope you enjoyed this part. Five parts to go ...


	21. Part 21

**Christmas Nigh; Adeste Fi!**

Previously:

"_You may want to turn your marshmallow there, Harm."_

_He hadn't been paying attention, and only one side of his marshmallow was browned. Harm rotated the skewer, but the melted goo inside wouldn't hold the marshmallow in place any longer, and the browned, heavy side remained on the bottom. _

_No matter how much or how fast Harm turned it, the marshmallow slid back into the same position. There was no way to brown the other side. Harm groaned._

"_Maybe you should give that one up," Mac suggested. "It'll still work for you in your s'more."_

_He looked over at her marshmallow. It was perfectly browned all around. "How did you get yours so good?"_

_Mac shrugged and smiled. "Must be because I'm a Marine, … and we, unlike wimpy squids, can do anything." She put her s'more together quite efficiently._

"_That's it," Harm objected, pointing at Mac for emphasis, "no more hanging around Bobby for you." _

_But Mac knew Harm was kidding, just as she had been._

_Harm proceeded to put his own s'more together. Or attempt to anyhow. He was having trouble._

_Mac got a twinkle in her eye. "Harm, … do you need help with that?"_

**Part 21 **

"I got it," he insisted.

Harm kept the skewer with the drooping marshmallow in his left hand, leaving him to put the rest together with only his right. He laid out half a cracker and added a layer of chocolate pieces. Then he managed, with difficulty, to get the marshmallow off the skewer.

He leaned the stick against the fireplace and lifted up the graham cracker to put the marshmallow on it, however the gooey insides had oozed out and stuck to his finger. No matter how hard he tried, each time he lifted his hand, the marshmallow remained glued to him, … stretching, but not breaking. It just wouldn't stay on the cracker. It drooped and lengthened, but it wouldn't let go of his finger.

Mac decided to be merciful. She put her own s'more down, picked up the other half of Harm's graham cracker to go on top, and successfully smashed it down, allowing Harm to remove his hand, and grab the s'more as a whole.

Mac had gotten some of the sticky, oozing marshmallow on her own hand and naturally started licking it off.

Harm was trying to manage his awkward 'sandwich,' attempting to figure out the best way to attack it, when he caught view of what Mac was doing. He stopped and stared at her maneuvering her tongue over one finger, then taking another inside her mouth to thoroughly get the stickiness off.

Mac was not thinking about what she was doing, but suddenly she realized Harm was staring at her. "What?" she asked.

"Just … enjoying the view," he admitted.

This confused Mac. She looked down at herself. Were her pajamas open or something? Nope.

Harm took that as his opportunity to cover up the fact that watching Mac was turning him on. It wasn't fair that she could do that to him without even trying. "Made you look," he joked.

"Not funny," said Mac.

Harm laughed anyhow and then bit into his snack. Unfortunately, the cracker broke with the pressure, and he almost lost the whole thing. Only his quick reflexes kept it from falling to the floor. Still, he looked rather amusing with the pieces cupped in his hands.

"But _that's_ pretty funny!" It was Mac's turn to snicker now.

When Harm had swallowed his bite and deposited the rest on a paper towel, he conceded, "Obviously, I'm just an unskilled sailor."

Mac became serious. "You know that's not really true." Teasing was one thing, but she didn't want to get carried away with it.

"Yeah," Harm smiled at her. "… Thanks for defending me before." He couldn't forget how she had told Bobby that Harm was the bravest person she knew. The thing was - he wasn't so brave. Not about everything.

"I've always got your back," Mac assured him. "Sorry about Bobby though."

"It's not your fault," Harm dismissed it. "… The kid speaks what's on his mind."

"Kind of refreshing in a way," Mac admitted.

Harm raised his eyebrows. "Oh? You want me to tell you when you have a bad hair-do?" he asked, remembering Bobby's comment to her.

Mac paused, before answering, "… If it's true." Then making a face, she asked, "… Was it really a bad hairstyle?"

Harm chuckled at her sudden insecurity. "No, not at all. … But, … I do like it better how you have it now," he said with sudden softness. "It's more … natural."

He started to lift his hand to her, as if to stroke her hair.

"Oh, no you don't," Mac stopped him. "Not with those sticky, marshmallow fingers," she scolded him.

"That was _this_ hand," he defended himself, raising the other one.

"Oh." Mac now cursed herself for stopping him. … She so longed for the contact. "Well," she decided, "we should clean that sticky one up."

Foreseeing the need for paper towel, Mac had brought a bunch of it into the room with them. She picked up a bottle of water from the coffee table and used it to wet some of the towels. Then she took Harm's hand in hers and started to wipe him clean.

She didn't know why she was doing it. He wasn't a kid; he could clean himself. It was just … she wanted to touch him.

Harm was surprised that Mac was cleaning his hand as if he was a child. … She did have great maternal instincts, he thought. Of course, he'd prefer different female instincts kicking in for Mac when it came to him. He wouldn't have minded her opting to clean his fingers off the same way she'd cleaned her own, … by licking them.

No, … it was good she wasn't doing that, because Harm would have lost all control. He was nearly losing it as it was with just her touching his hand. … Oh, he needed to get his hormones under control.

Meanwhile, Mac was embarrassed by her need to touch him, and to avoid Harm calling her on the fact that he didn't need the personal service, she started talking.

"Can you imagine just blurting things out the way Bobby does?" she asked. "What if we did that kind of thing?"

Harm was quick to participate in Mac's new conversation in order to get his mind on other things as well. "You mean like walking up to Sturgis and telling him he needs to loosen up … or one of these days he's going to alienate everyone?"

"Leave Sturgis alone," Mac admonished. "He's your friend. … I was thinking more like, … what if Tiner walked up to Coates and told her outright that he liked her. What do you think would happen?"

Harm didn't understand why it was so bold to say you liked someone. If you were telling them you _dis_liked them, things might be interesting. "She'd say thank you?"

"No," Mac realized Harm didn't understand how she had meant it. "I mean _really_ 'likes' her," she clarified.

"Does he?" asked Harm.

"Ohhh yeah," Mac answered, grinning. She balled up the paper towels that she had been using. "You should have seen him at work today, … totally smitten."

Harm laughed a bit. "Well, knowing Tiner, … he just _may_ blurt it out … by accident. Put him under the right kind of pressure and his thoughts just come out. Besides, don't you think Coates picked up on it anyhow?"

"… Yeah, I'm sure she suspects it," Mac agreed while putting the towels in a little trash bag to free her hands. "But unless a woman hears the words, … it doesn't mean much," she said.

"Why not?"

"… Because women don't like to be mind readers. We like confirmation, … because if the man keeps quiet … then all we know is that he's not willing to do anything about his feelings." Mac stared at the fire. "… He's not serious."

"Maybe he's just scared," said Harm, looking intently at Mac.

She returned her gaze to him, wondering if there was something more he was trying to tell her. Seeking safety though, she gently pointed out, "Well, that's the whole point of this 'what if' scenario, isn't it? What if people _weren't_ afraid of being direct?"

Harm was getting warm, thinking about his own fear of opening up, so he decided to shift this conversation a little. Only half-joking, he asked, "You mean like, … what would happen if someone told the Admiral outright that his girlfriend is a walking hazard to society?"

"She's not _that_ bad," Mac told him.

"Mac, … how well do you know her? She's got a death wish, I think. … Really, … she almost killed herself and me along with her when we went flying in Sarah."

"… And that makes flying with her different than flying with you, how?" Mac asked, referring to the fact that he'd almost gotten her killed nearly every time she got on a plane he was piloting.

Harm made a face at that, partly with offense, partly with guilt.

Mac relented. "I'm kidding, Harm." Well, sort of. "Alright, so Meredith's got some issues with thinking she's capable of more that she actually is. The Admiral must have realized this by now," she pointed out.

"I think he's in denial," Harm said. "… So how do you think he'd react if someone told him?"

Mac pursed her lips for less than a second before answering, "Rip them a new one for daring to disrespect him … and her, slam his door. … But then he'd seriously consider the risks of being involved with someone like her. Later he'd apologize to whoever had talked with him. … He's kind of like … a toasted marshmallow," she mused. "Hard and crispy on the outside, but soft on the inside."

Harm wasn't sure he liked that imagery, but it was an interesting comparison.

A second later Mac continued the game. "Okay, I've got one. … What would Petty Officer Nast, at the front gate do if Bud gave in to his curiosity and asked if Nast's lazy eye is actually a high tech prosthetic, implanted with special codes for detecting and identifying potential threats to our security?"

"Sort of an instant 'naughty or nice' list?" Harm interpreted with humor.

"Something like that."

"Well, I think if Bud were to ask Nast directly, the petty officer would do the same thing we all do when Bud asks ridiculous questions. Answer honestly within the rules of _this_ universe and roll … well, in his case, maybe just his good eye."

"You're horrible," Mac reacted, playfully pushing Harm.

"I know, … I failed miserably at toasting my marshmallow," Harm deliberately changed the context of her comment. "Let me try again," he insisted. "… I will not have the Navy so dishonored."

"If you think you can handle it." Mac handed him a new marshmallow and twisted herself to comfortably watch him.

"What are you doing?" he asked her.

"Supervising."

"You're not going to have another one?" he asked.

"In a minute," she answered.

Harm started toasting his second marshmallow for the evening, and they sat in silence for a bit.

Mac eventually broke the stillness. "Hey Harm, …"

"Yeah?"

"If we were to turn this 'what if' game around … to what you would do … if … someone said something overly direct to _you_ …"

-----

TBC …

----

A/N: One of them does start to take courage in the next part on approaching the 'L' issue.

(That doesn't stand for 'licking,' despite the part above. Also doesn't stand for 'lords a leaping,' … though that could be an interesting conversation. Not 'Little Town of Bethlehem' either. And I'm sure you're relieved to know that it does _not_ stand for a matter of 'law.')

What do you think, so far?


	22. Part 22

**Christmas Nigh; Adeste Fi!**

A/N: Bonus points for finding more past HBX challenge lines plus the Christmas references in this part. ;0)

Previously:

_Harm started toasting his second marshmallow for the evening, and they sat in silence for a bit._

_Mac eventually broke the stillness. "Hey Harm, …"_

"_Yeah?"_

"_If we were to turn this 'what if' game around … to what you would do … if … someone said something overly direct to __you__ …"_

**Part 22**

"Okay," he agreed for her to go on.

Mac hesitated, before asking, "… What would you do if a woman, … someone at work, … came up to you one day … completely out of the blue … and told you she thought you were absolutely adorable and that she wanted to have your babies?"

That was not what Harm was expecting. It took him a moment to clear his head enough to answer. "Well, … that depends. … Are you the woman?" he asked, unable to hide the hint of a grin.

"… No," Mac answered, blushing a little. She hadn't considered that Harm might consider herself as a possibility in this scenario. She explained the source of her question. "… Um, … I probably shouldn't tell you this, but … I overheard Ms. Carey the other day tell someone … that … all she'd want for Christmas is you."

"Really?" Harm's eyebrows shot up. He'd had no idea. "The cute civilian worker in supplies?"

"Yeah," Mac confirmed.

"Who knew?" he reflected rhetorically, but with obvious pride.

"So, … what would you do?" Mac asked.

"Uh, … tell her that I was flattered, … but …" He decided to go with humor on this one. "… I make it a rule to only consider having a child with one woman at work. … I don't want an office pool going for who's going to have my child."

Mac didn't laugh though. "Well, what if … kids weren't part of her wish? If she just wanted you? … She's civilian, so … no regs in the way. And you said yourself, she's cute."

Mac didn't know why she was laying this out in front of Harm. Was she a glutton for punishment? Was she testing him?

"She is cute," Harm agreed. "But I would still politely decline. … She's really not someone I'm interested in."

That was as far as Mac was willing to push it. "Your marshmallow's looking good there, Harm. I think it's about done."

"Ooh, yeah." Harm pulled the skewer back and admired his handiwork.

"Not bad, squid," Mac complimented him as she pulled out another marshmallow for herself.

"You're still going to show me up though?" Harm surmised.

"You bet," she told him, taking out a second marshmallow and spearing both with her skewer.

There was another lengthy period of silence while Mac slowly toasted her double marshmallow treat.

Harm ate his toasted marshmallow plain. He wasn't going to bother with the graham crackers or chocolate this time. While he swallowed down the sticky fluff, his thoughts roamed.

Where had Mac been going with that last question? She actually seemed concerned that he would be interested in some lady who worked on base that he hardly knew. Yeah, that civilian was a looker, but she didn't have much else going for her.

Honestly, did Mac think he was that stupid and shallow? Okay, well his past relationship with Renee didn't help his case much on that front. If he could have been honest with Mac back then instead of just being snide about Brumby, it might have saved them both a lot of pain.

Harm wondered, as his mind wandered, if he was just a poor ornery person who Mac might have every right to think was the densest man under the sky. He supposed Mac might have seen this civilian woman as a threat to their own 'deal,' the promise of ages ago that they had already recalled tonight. The promise of a child. He wouldn't put that in jeopardy. Not now.

But really, he knew that Mac didn't think he was stupid. She respected him and his opinions. Again, his thoughts drifted to how Mac had told Bobby that Harm was the bravest person she knew. He questioned how much of that statement was true or how much of it she just said for Bobby's benefit.

Harm might be brave at times, but he was actually a huge coward when it came to certain things, … like admitting his feelings. He pondered how it would be if he would just dare to open up … But the fear and uncertainty kept a vice-like grip on him.

'Let go of me!' he silently ordered the apprehension that had kept him quiet for years.

'What are you afraid of?' he asked himself. There were many scenarios to answer that question: her laughing in his face or deciding that knowing how he felt would make her too uncomfortable to work together with him, … too uncomfortable to be friends. Even if she didn't think that, _could_ they still be friends and partners if she rejected him as more? It would upset the balance of their relationship.

On the other hand, Harm was really beginning to believe that Mac had deeper feelings for him than she let on. Maybe she just needed to hear something, … some sign from him about what he felt. That voice was back in his head. 'For once in your life, admit you've got real feelings.'

He built up his courage. 'You can't run away all your life,' he told himself. He wouldn't run, but … he still opted to use a safety net. He would take advantage of their latest game to feel things out.

"Hey, Mac," he finally said, sounding deceptively casual considering the topic he was about to bring up.

"Yeah?"

"What … would _you_ do … if … I told you I loved you?"

Mac's breath caught as she stared at her marshmallows, but she quickly reminded herself that Harm was just joking around with their 'what if' game.

She jested back, "I'd take you to the ER, because it would mean that you _clearly __did_ hurt your head from that fall earlier."

As she finished that sentence, she finally turned to look at Harm. Mac was surprised to see a serious expression on his face. Although he then tried to smile at her joking response, Mac thought she caught a trace of disappointment from him. And the fact that he then looked away from her told her something was not right.

"…Unless … you were serious?" she asked, trying to recover if she had offended him regarding his hypothetical.

Tentatively, Harm looked back at her. "Yeah, … if I were serious," he confirmed gently.

Mac was at a loss. She knew what she wanted it to mean, but it seemed entirely unlikely. "… Um, … I guess I'd … need you to clarify," she finally answered, unsure what Harm was getting at exactly.

"Clarify?" Harm repeated.

"Yeah, I mean …" Mac didn't want to spell out her confusion, so she determinedly switched tracks. "I'd say, … 'I know.'"

"You know?"

"I know you care about me … a lot," she explained. "… I appreciate that more than you know. … And it's mutual," she added tenderly.

There, … it was their Hallmark moment. The love of friends.

But somehow, that wasn't the response Harm had been hoping for. On the other hand, at least it wasn't the response he was dreading either. It just didn't seem like Mac was really answering him. He did care for her a lot, but that wasn't the question. Maybe she hadn't understood him.

"What would you want to clarify?" he asked.

"Well, … I'm assuming that's the kind of love you'd mean _if_ you were to actually _say_ those words."

"Kind of love? As opposed to?"

"As opposed to … the other kind of love," Mac said evasively. She really didn't want to have to expand on that any more for fear that she would reveal too much about her own feelings.

But she didn't have to explain, because Harm guessed, "The kind of love a man has for that one woman alone who makes him feel … like no one else can? For the woman he can't imagine the rest of his life without? Preferably with her by his side … day and night?"

Mac was in complete awe at Harm's articulation. "… Yeah," she confirmed and then looked away to the fire. She was slightly embarrassed from her admission that she had even considered the possibility of that second kind of meaning.

"…Oh," was Harm's only response. He didn't follow it up with anything, … because he was a coward. Mac had assumed he had been talking about the love between friends. Harm certainly believed they had that kind of love, but he wondered if Mac's assumption meant that that was all she felt for him.

Mac focused her eyes again on her browning marshmallows, which she had taken away from the flame while coming up with her previous responses to Harm, but had now returned to hover over the fire. There was another period of silence that seemed to stretch on for minutes.

"Mac?"

"Yeah?" She did not bother to look away from her skewer.

"What if … I meant it the second way?"

Mac turned her head to him, but was completely dumbfounded from shock.

That is, until he added the word, "… hypothetically."

That reminded her again that this was just a game, but it also gave her a needed safety net of her own. She cast her eyes to the floor. "Hypothetically, …" she started, "I'd say …" Then, very quietly, she uttered, " … that maybe Santa Claus really does exist."

Harm didn't know exactly what that meant, but while he was processing her response something caught his eye.

"Whoa, … you're on fire there!" he exclaimed. In Mac's state of distraction, she was not paying attention to her snack, and the marshmallows ignited.

She quickly snapped back to reality, pulled the skewer from the fire and blew out the flaming torch.

Both Harm and Mac laughed. Probably more from nerves than anything else, … though it had been quite amusing.

"I don't know, Mac," Harm teased out of habit, "does setting it on fire count as showing me up? … I mean, … _I_ could have done that."

Mac was blushing from … well, everything. "You were distracting me," she defended herself. Looking at the charred mass at the end of her skewer, she declared, "Guess I've ruined these."

While part of Harm wanted to keep on with their more serious discussion, coded as it was, another part of him could see that Mac was agitated, and he wanted to put her at ease.

"Here," said Harm, reaching for the marshmallows on her skewer. "Let me try. I might like them well-done." He pulled one off of the stick, ignoring the burning sensation on his fingers, and blew on the marshmallow to cool. Examining it, he added, "Hard and crispy on the outside, … all soft and gooey underneath. … You're right, just like the Admiral," he joked, referring to her comment from earlier in the conversation.

The middle portion of the marshmallow was seeping out from the outer shell, and Harm suddenly noticed it was about to drip. He used his tongue to catch the drop.

Mac instinctively looked away, not allowing herself to fixate on his mouth at the moment, but she noticed something when she averted her gaze.

"Oh," she said with displeasure. The other marshmallow, just as gooey and leaky on the inside, had slid off of the skewer without either her or Harm noticing. "My carpet."

"I'm sorry," Harm sincerely apologized, thinking guiltily that if he hadn't grabbed the one marshmallow, Mac would have prevented any messes. He put his hand underneath the one he was holding to avoid any further dripping.

"Not a problem," Mac assured him. " I'll just get something to clean that up." She quickly got up and sprinted to the kitchen with flashlight in hand, glad to have an excuse to step away.

She'd been flustered ever since Harm had brought up the hypothetical love questions, but especially that last one: if he told her he loved her … the second way, the _being in love _way.

She needed to calm herself. Maybe splash some cold water on her face while she was in the kitchen before going back in with cleaning supplies for the carpet.

Meanwhile, Harm had given up on the burnt marshmallow. He decided that hardened exteriors really were just an annoying barrier to keep you from the good stuff. Not that he thought that idea through; his mind was busy trying to interpret Mac's words.

'Maybe Santa Claus really does exist,' she had responded. He could think of two meanings in the context of responding to his declaration of love for her. One, that she didn't believe in Santa and that she thought Harm declaring his love for anyone was just as unlikely. Or two, … dare he hope, that him saying that he was in love with her was on her wish list, … because she was in love with him too.

Mac came back with some wipes.

"Here," offered Harm, "let me."

"No, I've got it."

"The mess is my fault; I should clean it."

Mac relented and handed some wipes to Harm. "You can help."

Together, they cleaned the floor. Mac kept her focus on the task at hand, but Harm was noticeably distracted.

When they had finished and were wiping off their hands, he spoke.

"Hey, Mac."

"Hmm?" she responded, still concentrating on cleaning her hands.

"… I do, you know."

"You do what?" she asked without much thought. She was desperately trying to stay focused on her task.

"… Love you."

Mac stopped her hands and then looked up at Harm.

"… The first way?" she uttered after a few seconds. It was not so much a question as a confirmation.

"Well, … yeah," Harm responded. Of course he loved her as a friend; that was a given.

Mac was somewhat disappointed at his agreement, but at the same time she was a little bit relieved. She could deal with this. After all, they had already rehearsed this interaction through their 'what if' game.

"… I know," she responded according to script. "… And the feeling _is_ mutual," she assured him with a slight smile.

"… I'm glad," Harm replied with a small grin of his own.

Mac turned back to task, collecting the used wipes and putting them in the trash bag she had brought in.

"Sarah?"

She froze and paused. After a moment, without looking up at Harm, she responded, "Yeah?"

Harm gathered up his courage. This was it. "… The second way too."

Mac automatically looked up at him now. "… What?" Surely, she had misheard him.

Harm cleared his throat nervously, and diverted his eyes as he explained, "The other kind of love, - … the way a man feels about that … one woman … completely … and all that."

Mac just stared at him in wide eyed wonder. She was truly speechless. This was a dream of some sort. Sugar plum fairies were bound to make their dancing entrance any second.

At first, Harm was worried at Mac's lack of response. Fear gripped his heart. He was considering telling her to just pretend that he had not said anything, since she obviously did not feel the same. But then, he ventured his gaze to meet her eyes. And what he saw there was surprise, … but also more, … including … hope?

That lifted his spirit, and instead of saying anything more, he leaned closer to her, showing his desire to kiss her. To his utter bliss, she closed the distance and met his lips with her own.

And as their mouths fused in the most intense kiss of their lives, Harm's heart soared and, with every beat, rejoiced, 'Joy to the World!'

---

TBC …

---

A/N: Okay, I decided to be nice and end this part on a very good 'note' (I had been planning to cut it off earlier). So, tell me, what do you think? Too sappy?

By the way, I probably will switch to posting later in the day for the last few parts, … but we'll see.

And thank you very much to those leaving me feedback!


	23. Part 23

**Christmas Nigh; Adeste Fi!**

Previously:

_Harm cleared his throat nervously, and diverted his eyes as he explained, "The other kind of love, - … the way a man feels about that … one woman … completely … and all that."_

_Mac just stared at him in wide eyed wonder. She was truly speechless. This was a dream of some sort. Sugar plum fairies were bound to make their dancing entrance any second._

_At first, Harm was worried at Mac's lack of response. Fear gripped his heart. He was considering telling her to just pretend that he had not said anything, since she obviously did not feel the same. But then, he ventured his gaze to meet her eyes. And what he saw there was surprise, … but also more, … including … hope?_

_That lifted his spirit, and instead of saying anything more, he leaned closer to her, showing his desire to kiss her. To his utter bliss, she closed the distance and met his lips with her own. _

_And as their mouths fused in the most intense kiss of their lives, Harm's heart soared and, with every beat, rejoiced, 'Joy to the World!'_

**Part 23**

A/N: This part gets a bit steamy, but not 'adult.'

--

The one kiss turned into multiple.

Finally, Mac pulled her head away and looked at Harm, questioning, not with words, but with her eyes whether he really meant it.

Harm remembered her earlier comment that 'Santa must exist' if Harm were to actually say he was in love with her. He smiled and lifted one hand to cup Mac's cheek, while his other hand brushed her hair back over her ear.

Then he answered her unspoken question. "Yes, MacKenzie, … there is a Santa Claus."

Mac could not help but feel elated, knowing he understood, … knowing that he loved her!

She launched at him, … again claiming his lips. Harm welcomed her assault and countered with his own barrage.

After who knows how long, when they were both out of breath, they pulled back enough to give themselves a break.

"So, … um, … this means …" Harm checked between gasps for air, "… you don't mind … that I feel … what I feel for you?"

Mac grinned. "It means …" She gave Harm a small kiss on the lips, before continuing, "… that the second kind of love, …the complete, _in love_ kind …" She kissed him again, before declaring, "… That feeling's mutual too."

Harm had never been happier in his life, and with joy and relief, he gladly accepted another kiss from her, this one long and affirming.

But with a sudden thought stemming from some remaining insecurity, Harm abruptly broke it off.

"You're not just saying that, are you?" he asked. "Not just because I did, right? … I don't want to pressure you into saying something you don't mean."

"Harm, … I'm in love with you," Mac said with all sincerity. She hated that he was doubting her. "If you don't believe that I would have said the words except for hearing them first, … just ask Sturgis."

This comment puzzled Harm. "You told Sturgis?"

Mac shyly nodded.

Now Harm was doubly confused and surprised. "You told Sturgis you're in love with him? … Are you?"

Mac couldn't help but laugh at Harm's interpretation. "_No_, … you silly elf," she said, "I told Sturgis I was in love with _you_."

That made Harm feel a lot better, … especially because of the way she was smiling at him. She was happy, and it was because of him. And it was more than just her enjoyment of teasing him. But he was still baffled. "Why?"

"Why do I love you?"

"Why did you tell him?"

Mac hesitated, slightly embarrassed, before admitting, "… Apparently Tiner's not the only one in the office who's at risk of blurting out personal thoughts or feelings when confronted with certain stress."

"You mean …?" Harm tried to formulate his question, figuring out how Sturgis figured into this.

Keen to get off the topic of her confession to Harm's old Academy buddy, Mac interrupted, "Is this really what you want to be doing? … Discussing Sturgis?"

Harm smiled at that and shook his head. "No, … what I really want to be doing right now …" He took her face in his hands, and continued, "… is this …" He leaned in and gave her a small kiss on the lips. "… And this …" He changed the angle of his approach and kissed her again. "And …"

Mac got impatient for more, and this time, she put her hand to the back of his head and pulled him to her for a much longer, deeper kiss.

When she finally released him, Harm finished in a husky whisper, "… And a lot more of that."

… And there was. A lot of kissing … with the same passion and need for each other as before, when they had kissed in the kitchen, but now it was even better. Now, their hearts were lighter, were truly joyful, as if they had been set free.

Logistically, Mac didn't like the way she had to angle herself for what was becoming a prolonged time, so for comfort's sake she soon straddled over Harm's legs to have the easiest access for kissing him.

It was an innocent move to avoid the previous awkward position, but the newly added body contact had its effect on both of them.

They pulled each other closer, indulging in the feel of the other so completely. They fed off of the taste of each other, pure love … with a hint of marshmallow.

They kept at it for long seconds, … minutes, perhaps even half an hour.

At some point Harm leaned them to the side, which caused Mac to stretch her one leg out as Harm shifted his own two out from under her. Without disconnecting their mouths, he edged his long limbs to be parallel with Mac's extended leg.

She adjusted, gently pushing against Harm to maneuver her bent leg out to meet her other. In the process, her leveraging pressure caused Harm to lean more, and he ended up lying on the floor, bringing her down on top of him.

She sprinkled him with kisses as their legs tangled. Mac's hands were on Harm's chest, feeling his hard muscles through the sweatshirt he wore.

Harm's hands roamed under Mac's PJ top, getting to know her bare back. The feeling of his warm hands on her soft skin made them both gasp from the sensations.

But Harm soon brought his hands out from under the material, grasped onto Mac's shoulder and side, and flipped them over so that he was on top.

And it was sometime in the next moments, on her back, entwined with the man she loved, being slowly consumed by him, that Mac started to hear bells. … Not silver bells, … not jingle bells, … but warning bells.

"Harm," Mac, nearly breathless, muttered.

"Hmm?" he continued kissing her on the side of her face.

"We should …" Mac's lips were met by Harm's again, delaying the end of her sentence. Finally, she managed to finish with the word, "… stop."

It had to be one of the hardest things she had ever done, … but this was important.

It took Harm more than a few seconds to process that, given that the cognitive portion of his brain had been disengaged. It did not help that Mac was still responding to the kisses he was giving her.

But as soon as the word 'stop' bounced its way into his comprehension, he did just that. He was suddenly hit hard with reality, … and he was horrified that he'd taken things too far, too fast.

He cherished this woman more than life itself; she deserved to be courted properly. Not to mention that they needed to consider the ramifications of all of this.

Harm hoisted himself up a little, catching his breath. "God, Mac, … I'm -"

Mac quickly put her finger over his mouth, stopping him. "Don't say you're sorry."

Harm pulled back and began, "… I just …" But he sat up without completing the sentence. He leaned himself against the couch and tilted his head back against it while searching for words.

Mac lay still for a few moments, collecting herself. Finally, she sat up.

"Harm …"

He brought his head upright again. "… Mac, … I … just don't want you to think I meant to … That I was trying to … take advantage …" he floundered.

Mac shut him up with a swift kiss, – not passionate, just enough to get his attention, and then she pulled away as quickly as she had swooped in.

Harm looked at her with confusion.

"Everything that just happened, … we did that together, …" she pointed out. "… And I enjoyed every second of it," she assured him.

"You said to stop," stated Harm.

"… I know. It's just, … we both know where that was going, … and … as much as I want that, … I need to … _We_ need … to …" Restarting again, she declared, "This is a big deal for us. …. I mean, it's always a big deal, but … for us … there's a lot at stake."

"I know," he agreed.

"Things at work," said Mac.

"Our friendship," Harm added.

"Yeah, … I don't want to mess this up. And this has happened so fast …" Mac paused, as it occurred to her that seven years could not exactly be considered speeding. "Well, not fast, but … suddenly," she amended. "… I just … need to make sure this is real," she concluded.

"You don't believe I love you?" Harm questioned.

"Harm, … I feel like … I'm in a dream right now. Like there's some Christmas magic going on here tonight. … The way everything has happened, – you snowed in here, the power and heat out, putting us by the fire. It's like something's conspiring to give us romance tonight."

She continued, desperately stating, "… I need to know that two weeks from now, two months from now, when the Christmas magic is gone and we're faced with reality … that this isn't going to disappear. … I need to be confident that this love will last … before we get caught up in the heat of the moment."

"You want an assurance of romance forever?"

Mac timidly nodded.

"I can't give you that," Harm admitted quietly.

Mac sighed, "I know. … Love can fade."

Harm gave Mac a strange look. "I think you're confusing love and romance."

"Same thing," she said.

At that, Harm shook his head and even grimaced a little. "Typical woman," he muttered.

That was not a response Mac would have guessed from him. "Excuse me?"

At Mac's lost and slightly offended expression, Harm continued, "You accused men earlier of confusing romance with sex," he reminded her. "Well, women tend to confuse romance with love. … Those are _also_ two different things."

"You're an expert on love now?"

"No, I've just … watched enough females go all ga-ga over some guy. … I just think that women tend to confuse the feelings they get from all those 'romantic' gestures, … the flowers, undivided attention, the flattery, and the atmosphere, … with being in love."

"So when there's romance, … a woman might be thinking love and a man might be thinking sex. So, in the end, romance is … a man's tool and a woman's weakness?" Mac unhappily tried to surmise Harm's point.

"No, …" Harm objected with frustration. "Romance can be good and wonderful. I'm just saying that all that romantic stuff comes and goes in the best of relationships. … All of that _can_ be used by any man who wants to bed a woman … whether he loves her or not."

Mac started looking really upset; … she knew she had been vulnerable to all of those 'romantic' things in the past. … She'd been taken in by those gestures from other men and didn't like to be reminded of that.

Harm mistakenly assumed that Mac was getting upset because she thought that he was just using the opportunity of the night's romantic atmosphere to get her into bed.

"Mac, … that's not what I was doing here, … I swear. … I didn't plan this … This wasn't some attempt to seduce you. You mean too much to me, … and I would never take advantage of you."

"I know," she assured him. "… You're a good man."

He breathed with relief. "That's the second time you've told me that tonight," he said, remembering the comment she had made right before their discussion of his scrawny little Christmas tree.

"Well, it's true," she told him. "… And I also said earlier that I wouldn't let you take advantage of me, … and I know you weren't. … But you're right … about the romance, which … is all the more reason for us to take a step back while this sets in. Not go from zero to sixty tonight." She looked down, before adding, "… In case things don't work, … we can still save -"

"Mac," Harm interrupted. "Look, … I can deal with waiting for you, … for us, … to be ready for the more … physical side of things. As long as it takes. … But what I do need is some faith … in us. Not the mindset that we're setting ourselves up for failure."

Harm looked into Mac's face, which had tilted back up to him. She was not sure how to respond, but was kept from having to when Harm inquired, "Can I ask you a question?"

She nodded.

"Did you … love me yesterday?"

"Yes," she answered.

"Last week?"

"Yes."

"Last month?"

Mac was getting impatient with this line of questioning. "Harm, I've been in love with you for years," she insisted, not knowing where he was going with this.

Harm was touched, and he soaked in appreciation of that admission before telling her, "That's how you know that this isn't us getting caught up with some silly romantic notion … or hormones. … I know this because I still love you just as much when we're not near each other, … like yesterday, … or when we're fighting, … like last month. Mac, … I've loved you for years too," he confessed. "Through everything."

Harm swallowed hard, before trying to make himself clear. "What I'm trying to say is … I can't always guarantee romance, … but I can guarantee that I will always want to be with you. And that you will always have my heart; … I think you always have."

Mac really was melting, as she replied, just as honestly, "And you'll always have mine."

She reached for his hand, and the tingling sensation started again. Mac giggled at this whole scenario. "It's nice to actually have love _and_ romance," she observed.

"Love _and_ romance plus sex would be even better," Harm added lightly. He smiled until he caught Mac's distressed look. "I'm sorry," he quickly back peddled. "I didn't mean to imply that … tonight …"

"It's okay," Mac interrupted. Her concern remained though, as she asked, "You're not mad at me, are you? … For stopping us at two out of three … for now?"

"Mad? … No. A bit frustrated," he admitted. "… But how could I be mad? You've just given me the best news ever, … the best day ever." Softly he added, "Better than I thought that tonight, … Christmas Eve of all nights, could possibly be."

Mac was overcome with sympathy for Harm with his memory of being informed that his father had gone MIA the night before Christmas so long ago. But at the same time, overwhelmed by the new joy of the admitted feelings between them, she suddenly declared, "I love you, Harm."

Harm was in heaven, hearing Sarah say those words to him. "And you believe we can make this work?" he asked.

Mac hesitated. "… I'd like to believe that. … I think my heart does, deep down, … but … I still need to get used to this." She rested before asking, "What about you? … Are you ready to let go?"

Another pause.

"I don't want to let go," Harm finally admitted, looking away from her.

Mac was, of course, disappointed, but she understood. Harm had his barriers, and she knew that he was scared to take a chance with her.

But Harm surprised her, finishing his statement, "I want to grab onto you and _never_ let go, ... never let you out of my arms."

And so he did gather her up against him and hugged her tightly.

Mac's heart soared. For the first time in her life, she felt she was right where she belonged, … sheltered in the arms of the man who meant everything to her. The love between them pulsed, transferring like osmosis from him to her and her to him.

"I don't know what made this happen tonight," Mac reflected, "but I'm so glad it did."

"It must have been the mistletoe," Harm replied, remembering their kisses in the kitchen. "… That's what got us started off."

"Actually," Mac gently disagreed, "… I guarantee it was _not_ because of mistletoe."

"Really? How's that?"

"… I have a slight confession," said Mac. "… I … didn't hang any mistletoe in the kitchen."

Confused, Harm pointed out, "Well, … somebody put it up there. Are you saying little elves came by, hanging the stuff to get us together?"

"No," Mac nearly laughed at his suggestion. "… I'm saying that there was no mistletoe. … The green decoration hanging in my kitchen … is holly, … not mistletoe."

"… You sure?"

Mac smiled at Harm's dubious expression. "Yes, I'm sure. … I tried to tell you, … but …"

"But?" Harm asked when Mac trailed off without finishing.

"… I wanted you to kiss me," she admitted.

"And there's no tradition for kissing under holly?" It was really more of a statement from Harm.

Mac shook her head. "… No."

"… Well," Harm decided, "… there should be. … For you and me. … How about we start our own tradition?"

"Kissing under holly?"

"Yeah," said Harm. "… And ivy, … and evergreens, …" He drew her closer. "…And by hearths where 'Christmassy' fires are burning."

He closed the small distance and kissed Mac. He intended it to be a peck, but it quickly turned into more.

They had not completely recovered from their heated moments before, and they were quickly giving in to the rekindled passion.

But Harm, ever the gentleman, suddenly stopped and pulled away.

Mac looked at him in acknowledgement, as she observed, "… The fire's not the only thing burning in here."

"Yeah," Harm agreed. "We need to cool it."

Mac nodded.

Rubbing her hand over the back of Harm's head, Mac thought aloud, "Maybe I should get the ice I was going to put on your head earlier."

Harm put his hand on his head to see if she was feeling some kind of bump. "My head's fine, Mac," he protested.

"I wasn't going to put it on the back of your head," Mac admitted. "I was thinking more of throwing iced water over you." She abruptly removed Harm's other hand from where it had been wandering across her body.

"Aw, Mac. I've been shot down before, … but that is just cold!" he joked.

Mac suddenly became very serious. With compassion and urgency, she told him, "I'm not shooting you down, Harm. You know that, right? … It's not that I don't want to take things all the way with you." She took her hands and placed them on the sides of his face. "I … I've never wanted any man as much as I want you," she whispered.

Harm caught the passion and lust in her eyes, and quickly clenched his own, swallowing hard.

"Mac, … if we're waiting, … you can't talk to me like this. … Not when you've already got me wanting you so much it hurts."

He opened his eyes to meet hers, which had softened.

"I just don't want you to feel like I'm rejecting you," she said.

"I know," he assured her. "… But, um, if you'll excuse me for a moment, … I _am_ going to splash some cold water on me before I completely embarrass myself." He grinned at her and she smiled back, letting go of him.

Harm grabbed a flashlight and headed to the bathroom, leaving Mac seated on the floor. When he disappeared, she laid back again, flat on the ground, with a happy sigh and a huge smile on her face.

She had been in love for a long time. … But now she could enjoy it. Now it was requited. Now it was wonderful.

Yes, part of her wanted more, and she bit her lip in frustration, thinking about it. But she knew that for the time being this was for the best. And it didn't matter. She was still on cloud nine. He loved her, he knew she loved him, and, for right now, nothing else mattered.

-----

TBC …

-----

A/N: Thank you for all the feedback! Hope you enjoyed this part. Did you?


	24. Part 24

**Christmas Nigh; Adeste Fi!**

A/N: Sorry for the delay. … Real life, and this part is really, really long.

**Part 24**

Mac decided to busy herself, so she cleaned up by picking up the odds and ends they had scattered about from their s'mores activity. She returned from a trip to the kitchen and was scanning the living room to see if she had missed anything, when Harm came back.

They both stopped when they felt the presence of the other one in the room. Their hearts started racing again as they looked at each other, suddenly unsure how to act or what to do.

Mac finally broke the uneasy silence. "So, what now?" She knew that neither of them were ready for sleeping.

Harm tried the logical approach, "Well, what would we be doing if we hadn't … uh …" He didn't know how to describe what had just happened between them.

"Declared our love?" Mac supplemented, feeling a little silly over this nervousness that had overcome them both.

Harm nodded.

"… We'd still be sitting by the fire, I guess, … talking," Mac answered.

"Well, … then we should probably do that," Harm suggested, trying to think sensibly. "Nothing's really changed that much." As he said it, he thought that did not come out sounding right, because in a way, everything had changed. Life was better now. "I mean, …" he tried to explain, "… we still need to be ourselves."

"Yeah," Mac agreed.

They sat back down near the fire, but far apart from each other.

"This is going to be awkward now, isn't it?" Mac asked with concern, observing the current tension.

Harm made a decision right then, … hoping he could keep control. "No. … Come here."

Mac scooted close to him and grabbed the blanket, not sure whether to put it around Harm too, as she had done before.

"Here, give it to me," Harm told her. When Mac handed the blanket to him he stood up and then directed her to sit at a spot that he pointed to about a foot in front of the couch.

This confused Mac, but she did as he suggested. Harm shook the blanket to straighten it. Then he flipped it out above her, and brought it down and around, as if he were a waiter putting a napkin on a patron to be used as a bib, though he did not pull the blanket up to Mac's neck.

Then, he squeezed himself in the space behind her, leaning himself against the sofa, and he put his legs with his knees up on either side of her. He pulled the blanket up around them both and gently encouraged Mac to lean back against him.

She was somewhat resistant at first, but eased up just enough to have her back against Harm's chest. Finally, Harm fixed the blanket so that it covered both of them well, with plenty of room to spare.

"See," he pointed out, "this is more efficient."

Mac did not respond, and she was still somewhat stiff. Her head remained completely upright and she was not putting her full weight on Harm.

"Relax, Mac," said Harm "… I won't bite." He urged her to really lie against him, and she did, settling against his chest.

As she rested her head up by Harm's left shoulder, he traced his finger over her right ear. "Of course," he modified, "… I can't promise I won't nibble." He quickly nipped at her ear teasingly.

A chill ran up Mac's spine from Harm's action, and she briefly tilted her head up to smile at him. Then they wanted to get comfy and cozy, so they snuggled as close together as two birds of a feather would be. Harm put his arms around Mac's stomach, figuring that was a safe place. Mac clasped her hands together and rested them overtop of Harm's arms.

For a few minutes, neither one spoke. They simply reveled in this new closeness. Mac could feel the 'rum pum' of Harm's heart beating against her back, while Harm felt Mac's beating heart answering, 'pum pum,' against the forearm he had resting below her breast.

Finally, Harm interrupted the quiet. "You know, … this doesn't feel awkward to me, Mac."

"No, it doesn't feel awkward at all," she agreed.

Harm could tell that Mac was definitely relaxing, so he was surprised when she suddenly tensed up again in his arms. But he refrained from saying anything, hoping whatever was causing her stress would pass.

A minute later, Mac ventured, "Harm?"

"Yeah?"

"Does this mean …" She was not quite sure how to ask this question without sounding like an adolescent, but she managed to continue, "… that we're an item now?"

"An item?"

"Yeah, … you know, … dating."

"Dating?"

Mac now turned her head up to look at Harm. "Are you going to repeat everything I say?"

"I just want to make sure I'm understanding you. … I thought you didn't want to have any serious discussions about you and me tonight?"

"Harm, … I think we let that partridge fly out of the pear tree the minute you said you loved me."

"Oh. … Is that all it takes to get you to change your mind about something?" If telling her he loved her made her change her mind about things, he should have confessed his feelings long ago.

"About certain things, … yes." They shared a smile before Mac got nervous again. "… So …? Are you going to answer me?"

"What was the question?" he asked.

"Are we … officially dating?" Mac was not happy about repeating the question. Once was uncomfortable enough.

"Oh, … uh, I don't think … um …" Harm spluttered, before answering, "Not yet."

Mac looked crestfallen. She hated those words, … 'not yet.' Hearing them from Harm simply reminded her of her heartache from that blasted ferry ride they had shared in Australia.

But this was different, she tried to tell herself. This time he was holding her. This time he had said he loved her. And after all, it had been her who had initially put the brakes on taking things further tonight.

So she wondered what it was he wasn't ready for. Commitment? Admitting their relationship to others?

"But I'm hoping to remedy that soon," Harm continued.

Mac almost didn't listen to what he was saying, she was so consumed by her thoughts, but she did catch it, … barely. And then she looked up at him in bewilderment.

"We can't very well say we're officially dating since we have yet to go out on a single date," Harm explained with a reassuring smile.

Mac sighed with relief. Then she suggested, "Can't we … consider tonight a date? I mean, … we've spent the evening together, and we weren't working."

"We've done that before, and it was just friends hanging out," Harm objected.

"Yeah, but tonight there's been romance, … 'I love yous', … and a lot of kissing," Mac countered.

Harm grinned. "Which makes it the most wonderful night of my life so far … But it's still not a date," he insisted.

"What then, would you consider a date?"

"We have to agree beforehand. … You know, I ask you out, you say yes."

"… And when is that going to happen?" Mac inquired.

"The date or the asking out?"

"Either. Both."

Harm thought for a second. "How about tomorrow?"

"You'll ask me out tomorrow?"

"No, I'm asking you out now. … Come on a date with me tomorrow."

Mac hesitated. "… Tomorrow is Christmas Day," she pointed out.

"… Oh, … right." Harm looked disappointed. "You probably have plans." He was backing off his idea.

"No, Harm," Mac corrected. "I don't have any plans and I would love to go out with you tomorrow. … I was just thinking there's not much that will be open," she explained.

"Right," Harm realized she was correct. "Well, … how about I invite you to my place for dinner?" Before Mac could answer, Harm changed ideas. "Wait, … I should bring dinner over here. … You've got the Christmas atmosphere," he noted.

"Actually," said Mac, "I think dinner at your place sounds perfect. We can work together to create the atmosphere. … Decorate your little tree."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. … Assuming we're not snowed in here."

"I'll get out," Harm stated with confidence. "And I'll come back to pick you up after I get things ready."

"I thought we were going to set things up together?" Mac asked. "And why would you leave just to come back again to get me?"

"That's just the way it has to be. We'll decorate together," he promised, "but I want to get other things set. And I'll come pick you up."

Mac realized then that he wanted to pick her up to make this an 'official date.' "Am I supposed to dress up?" she asked.

"No, … casual," said Harm. "So you'll be comfortable for decorating … and whatever."

Mac smiled. "Okay. … So it's a date?"

Harm confirmed, giving Mac a little squeeze, "It's a date."

"And then we'll be dating?" Mac checked.

"I hope it's more than just dating," Harm answered.

As soon as he had said that, he realized that it could be taken to imply that he really was pushing the physical part of their relationship, which was not how he meant the comment. "I mean, … I want you to be …"

How could he word this? "… I want us to be … together."

Mac sensed what Harm was trying to say, and while she delighted in what he was getting at, she could not help teasing him. "It _is_ customary for two people to be together during a date."

"I know that," he insisted with frustration. "… I …You know what I'm trying to say here, don't you? What I'm trying to ask? Uh, …I'd …"

She was pretty sure she did know that he meant he wanted a more defined relationship than just casual dating. So, playing on how their nervousness seemed to befit that of high school kids, she interrupted him and cut to the chase.

"Harm, … will you be my boyfriend?" she asked with a sly smile and sparkle in her eyes. Despite the light-hearted manner in which she asked, her question was quite sincere. And her heart pounded in anticipation.

One of Harm's famous grins slowly grew on his face, as he realized that Mac had just relieved him of his blundering and got to the heart of the matter. And she was so cute doing it.

He answered back in like form, "As long as you'll be my steady girl, … then yes."

With a small, but beautiful smile, Mac replied, "I think I'd like that."

"So, it's a deal."

"You wanna shake on it?" she asked playfully.

Harm shook his head no. "This needs to be sealed with a kiss."

They shared a sweet, soft kiss, full of promise. And as their eyes met afterwards, they could see the happiness and the love in each other.

Mac turned her head away and started to snuggle back into Harm's embrace, when she heard him rhetorically say, "So, I guess this means I should cancel the date I was planning with the hot blonde for Friday."

Mac quickly shifted away and snapped back to look at him.

"I'm kidding, Mac …" Harm headed her off, defending himself. He had been being facetious, but now he was a little worried that it was too soon for that kind of humor. "… There's no one else," he assured her.

Mac's eyes narrowed. "There better not be," she said in a mock-threatening voice. Then she added in her playful tone, but serious nonetheless, "… I've got to warn you, Harm. As long as you're mine, … I won't share."

Harm thought for a second. "Normally, I would say that refusing to share is not very in keeping with the Christmas spirit, Mac," he said in an almost shaming tone. "But," he relented, "… some things … are not meant to be shared with more than one person."

Mac smiled softly as Harm caressed her face. They would share their love only with each other. "I agree," she declared, and then continued their joke, "So, I'll cancel all my hot dates too."

"That's very generous of you," commented Harm.

"Not really," she admitted. "The only use my social calendar has had as of late has been crossing off the days until Christmas." She thought aloud, "I really should have gotten one of those Advent Calendars with chocolate in it."

Harm figured it was now his job to make sure Mac had fun things to do to fill in that social calendar. "I hope you aren't canceling every date," he said, "because I'm making plans for us."

She looked into his eyes. "Absent unforeseeable circumstances or orders to be elsewhere, … I wouldn't cancel any dates with my boyfriend," she assured him. "And he's the only one I'll be dating."

"Boyfriend," Harm repeated, letting that sink in. "Your boyfriend is happy to hear that," he told her.

"And no more blondes for you?"

Harm shook his head. "Only the beautiful brunette who is currently in my arms."

Mac smiled. "I like that."

"What do you like?"

"Being in your arms," she told him, "… being your favorite girl."

"My only girl," he corrected, "… my only woman."

Mac leaned back against Harm, and they sat for awhile. Harm lightly rested his head against hers, and Mac caressed his enveloping arms. Sometimes she would hold one of his hands or play with his fingers under the blanket.

"Mac …"

"Yeah?"

"I … um …" Harm anxiously began, "I'm okay with waiting and everything, … but, um … we'll eventually … not wait, … right?"

Mac should have known that Harm would need to revisit that issue.

"… Assuming things go well for us … for awhile, … right," she cautiously agreed. She still had not convinced herself that this was real. She needed to do that before taking things all the way. She knew she would not survive after that if things fell apart.

"So, …" Harm swallowed nervously, "believing in us, … I can count on not waiting more than … a decade from now?"

"Believing in us, … it should be less than that," she said, surprised at the long timeline.

"Within five years?" Harm checked.

"… Yeah," Mac almost laughed, but now expected him to work the numbers down.

To her surprise, he simply replied, "Okay."

She waited for a moment, but he did not follow up. "That's it?" she asked. "You're not going to ask about less time?"

"Before tonight, I wasn't sure I had reason to hope for anything with you in this lifetime. Now, I've got you in my arms, you've agreed to be my girl, ... and we know we love each other. I'm not gonna push my luck," he told her.

"Okay," Mac agreed.

There was silence for a moment, before Harm over-casually mentioned, "Of course, if you wanted to give me an idea of when you think … we'll be ready, then I wouldn't object."

Mac was still facing the firelight, with Harm behind her. She smiled to herself at the way he was gently prodding. "I think I can safely say, within a year," she gave him a timeframe that was still likely too long, and with the added caveat, "… assuming we make this work."

"We'll make it work," he said.

Mac did not reply with words, but since her head was leaning back on his left shoulder now looking up at him, she twisted slightly to bring her left hand up to the right side of his face, caressing his cheek. Then she moved her hand to cup his head and bring it to her as she raised her own to meet him for a sweet kiss.

She smiled at Harm and returned to her former position, leaning against him, looking at the fire. Harm smiled too. He embraced her tighter around the stomach and lovingly kissed the crown of her head before gently resting the side of his face on top of her.

They sat like that a long time, not needing to speak. Mac was getting tired, and in Harm's soothing arms it was not long before she was dozing. Harm noticed her drifting off. He also noticed that the fire was going out, … but he did not want to move. Part of him was afraid that if he let go, … it would somehow not be real any more.

It seemed that he had fears similar to Mac's. The truth was that he did understand her hesitancy. He wasn't sure he could believe in this either. Could it really be this simple after all they had been through?

But he wanted to believe. … And for the moment, it _was_ real. She was in his arms. He adored her as she slept.

Harm was also tired, but sleep eluded him. … It was not because of his seated position. It was not because Mac was precariously leaning against him and he needed to be awake to keep her from falling, though that was probably true.

He could not really say why he did not sleep. … Maybe because he did not want to miss out on any of this time. Maybe because having her so intimately close was … exciting. It reminded him of Afghanistan. He had not slept well that night. He wondered if it was because of the bombs … or because of her.

In the ever-dimming firelight, he studied her face. She was beautiful. And she looked so relaxed in her slumber. This was all he needed. In the silent night, all was calm. There was only the sound of the crackling fire and her steady breathing.

His eyes traced over her closed lids, her nose, and cheeks. She appeared so tender and so mild right now. But then his eyes made their way to her lips. His heart leapt at the memory of those lips on his own tonight. It had been the most wonderful sensation.

Harm's right hand, of its own accord, came up and hovered with a finger above her mouth. He had to control his impulse to run that finger over those sweet lips now; … he did not want to wake her. He wanted to let her sleep in her heavenly peace.

He returned his hand under the blanket, putting his arm around her again. He could tell that she was getting colder since the fire was slowly dying, and so he tried to keep the blanket up around her.

Even he had been cold in her apartment with the heat and power out. Although, he had to admit to himself that he had exaggerated his chill earlier that night as more of a ploy to get close to Mac under the blanket. … It was really just _her_ heat that he had yearned for.

In her sleep, Mac began to move and turn. Harm loosened his embrace to allow her to readjust. She shifted to the left but rolled around to her right so that she was back on Harm. She was now half on her side, but almost chest to chest with him, except that she tucked her arms up and sandwiched them between their bodies as she unconsciously sought out Harm's heat, snuggling against him.

But in the process of all that, her body must have registered that maneuvering was not as easy as rolling in her sleep would normally be on her flat, open bed.

She slowly became aware that she was on top of someone. Prying her eyes open, she pushed herself up slightly, lifting her head to see Harm. Confusion was evident on her face, which scared Harm for a moment. But then Mac smiled sleepily at him, and he knew she remembered everything.

"Hi," he greeted her.

"Hi," Mac whispered, before putting her head back down against Harm.

He decided to make use of the opportunity while she was half awake. "Hey, Mac, … you think maybe you should head to bed now?" he suggested. "Be more comfortable?"

Mac was not inclined to move. Harm was stroking her hair, caressing her back. How much more comfortable could she be? But she realized that he was probably not in the best of sleeping positions, and she wanted him to be comfortable.

She lifted her head and then managed to sit up, her eyes only half open. "Okay," she mumbled. "You mind if I use the bathroom first?" she asked.

"No, go ahead," Harm answered. Seeing Mac shiver, he asked, "Do you have the extra warm blanket for your bed?"

Standing up, she answered, "Yeah, … I'll get it."

"Okay, I'll make sure the fire is good and out," he told her. He would have offered to get the blanket, but it was probably easier for Mac to get it, even in her sleep, than him without the lights on and not knowing where to look for it.

"K," Mac agreed. She grabbed a flashlight and left one for Harm.

Harm made sure the fire was out so that it would be safe to go to sleep. Then he picked up the blanket they had been using all night and started to make the couch up for sleeping.

A few minutes later, Mac returned to find Harm playing with the pillow formation on the couch.

"Harm, what are you doing?"

"Figuring out the logistics," he told her.

"You're not sleeping on the couch, Harm. … You don't fit."

"I've slept in tighter spaces," he insisted. "If Santa can pack a zillion toys in a sack on a sled, I think I can manage to fit on your couch."

Mac was waking up more, and objected, "I told you I …"

Cutting her off, Harm said, "You're not sleeping on the couch, Mac. You need to stay warm in your bed with the big blanket."

"Why do either of us have to sleep on the couch?" Since she had woken up from her little nap, she had actually assumed they would be sharing the bed.

"Because …" Harm could not find the words to explain his reason.

"You're telling me you can't handle sleeping next to me?" Mac questioned. It did not make sense to her. "I was just sleeping _on_ you, Harm."

"That was different," he pointed out. "I was awake."

Mac was baffled. "You afraid you can't keep your hands off me in your sleep?" she joked.

"Yes," he answered to her surprise. "… I don't want to do something inappropriate."

Mac was beginning to understand; he did not want to lose 'control,' that lifeline he clung to. She decided to help him get over that compulsion.

"I'm a Marine, Harm," she insisted. "Even in my sleep, I can stop an unwelcome advance." Okay, so an advance from him would not be entirely unwelcome, but she stuck to her case. "And you don't have to worry about being bad tonight before Santa comes, because you're not liable for what you do while you're asleep. … And he knows when you are sleeping."

Harm laughed at that. "I'm not expecting Santa. … And you've already given me my gifts," he pointed out, showing that he had no reason to be worried about not getting presents.

She walked very close to Harm. "Does that mean you're going to stop being good to me?" she asked, walking her fingers up his chest.

"I am being good," he maintained. "You be good."

Mac dropped her hand off of him. "For goodness sake, Harm, come to bed," she whimpered with frustration.

"You don't have to pout about it," he noted.

"I'm not pouting."

"You'd better not be." Changing the topic, he asked, "… Did you find your extra warm blanket?"

"No," Mac admitted. "It's too hard to get out tonight." She figured she could use this to her advantage. "So, … you have to come lie next to me for body heat."

Harm grinned at her using his past excuse. "Oh, I see. You just want me to keep you warm," he pretended to be offended.

Mac knew he was playing with her, so she played back. "It's a little better than sleeping with the yetis," she said, referencing his comment about scorpions less than a year ago when he 'invited' her to sleep by him in the Afghan desert.

"We're not out in the tundra," said Harm, not entirely satisfied by her comparison.

"Feels like it." Mac really was cold now that there was no fire, no blanket, and no Harm keeping her warm. She visibly shivered.

Harm gave in. "Okay." He had to keep her warm, after all.

He took a flashlight and went to use the bathroom. He was surprised when he came out to find Mac half-sitting, but half-asleep, curled up on top of the bed.

"Why aren't you under the covers keeping warm?" he asked her.

With a very sleepy voice, Mac muttered, "'n'case you headed to the couch and I needed to block you and stuff you into bed instead."

Harm laughed quietly. She was so cute. "And what if I resisted?" he challenged her.

Practically dozing, Mac insisted, "I can take you."

Harm chuckled again as he made his way to the side of the bed she was on. "I'm sure you can. … But right now, you need to get under the covers."

"You too," she said.

"Me too," he assured her. He helped her up a little and pulled back the covers. This all seemed like such forbidden territory to him. This was Sarah MacKenzie's bed.

He made his way to the other side, but paused, trying to decide whether to hold her when he got in or just lie close. He took in the view of her in bed, in her teddy bear print PJs. How the woman could make even those look sexy was a phenomenon. Yeah, this definitely felt like forbidden territory.

"So, you gonna let me snuggle with all of your teddy bears?" he asked, trying in a round about way to see if she wanted him to hold her.

Mac smiled, being a bit more coherent since Harm came out of the bathroom and interacted with her. "Well, … I _was_ going to let you snuggle with me. … But if it's just the bears you're interested in, … I could take off my top and let you sleep holding just that instead."

"Haha," laughed Harm, getting into bed. "… Trust me, if you take off your top, … it's not the teddy bears I'm going to be interested in."

Mac laughed this time. Then she rolled over and draped her arm around him after he put the flashlight on the nightstand.

Harm pulled the covers up and cuddled close with Mac. "Do I need to worry about you getting up bright and early Christmas morning?" he asked.

"Mmm, … it's already Christmas morning," she told him, based on her innate knowledge of the time. "… And no," she answered, "I want to stay in bed as long as possible." She was entwined with Harm; of course she would want to prolong that experience.

"So we can settle down for a long winter's nap," Harm stated.

"Mmm-hmm," Mac agreed. "A Christmas nap." She raised her head and gave Harm a quick kiss.

He took that as being a Christmas wish from her, so he summed up, in toast format, "Merry Christmas to us."

Ready to give in to slumber, Mac added, "And to us … a good night."

Harm's heart felt so full, as he whispered, "A great night, Sarah."

---

TBC …

---

A/N: Again, sorry for the delay. And unfortunately, I might not be able to post the next (and last) part tomorrow (later today, I guess) after all. … But soon.

In the meantime, I hope you enjoyed this extra long part. Don't forget the Christmas references you can be finding.

Teacup


	25. Part 25

**Christmas Nigh; Adeste Fi!**

A/N: Terribly sorry about the delay in posting this last part. It was not at all intentional. Real life just made me extremely busy all of a sudden, and I had to make other things a priority.

However, in keeping with my July 25th stand-in for Dec. 25th schedule, … that would mean Aug. 6th would stand in for January 6th. And January 6th is Epiphany (aka 12th Night or 'Little Christmas'). It's the celebration of the visit of the Three Wise Men (aka Magi or Kings) to baby Jesus.

In my family, we literally celebrate our 'Little Christmas' as a mini-Christmas. Everyone exchanges gifts again (albeit on a much smaller level – like little bags of snack food). But we also use it for all those gifts that were being made, but didn't get finished for Christmas itself, or ordered, but didn't come on time. So, in keeping with that tradition … I'm actually on time for celebrating 'Little Christmas' in August!

Also, on the plus side, this last part is very long (at least three parts worth), and there are loads and loads of Christmas references (and some you'll think are for another holiday, but they really aren't) … and of course, you get see our favorite couple … being a happy couple.

--Teacup (of JAG)

**Christmas Nigh; Adeste Fi!**

Where we left off:

He helped her up a little and pulled back the covers. This all seemed like such forbidden territory to him. This was Sarah MacKenzie's bed.

He made his way to the other side, but paused, trying to decide whether to hold her when he got in or just lie close. He took in the view of her in bed, in her teddy bear print PJs. How the woman could make even those look sexy was a phenomenon. Yeah, this definitely felt like forbidden territory.

"So, you gonna let me snuggle with all of your teddy bears?" he asked, trying in a round about way to see if she wanted him to hold her.

Mac smiled, being a bit more coherent since Harm came out of the bathroom and interacted with her. "Well, … I _was_ going to let you snuggle with me. … But if it's just the bears you're interested in, … I could take off my top and let you sleep just holding that instead."

"Haha," laughed Harm, getting into bed. "… Trust me, if you take off your top, … it's not the teddy bears I'm going to be interested in."

Mac laughed this time. Then she rolled over and draped her arm around him after he put the flashlight on the nightstand.

Harm pulled the covers up and cuddled close with Mac. "Do I need to worry about you getting up bright and early Christmas morning?" he asked.

"Mmm, … it's already Christmas morning," she told him, based on her innate knowledge of the time. "… And no," she answered, "I want to stay in bed as long as possible." She was entwined with Harm; of course she would want to prolong that experience.

"So we can settle down for a long winter's nap," Harm stated.

"Mmm-hmm," Mac agreed. "A Christmas nap." She raised her head and gave Harm a quick kiss.

He took that as being a Christmas wish from her, so he summed up, in toast format, "Merry Christmas to us."

Ready to give in to slumber, Mac added, "And to us … a good night."

Harm's heart felt so full, as he whispered, "A great night, Sarah."

**----**

**Part 25 – The End**

He couldn't sleep. In a strange bed for the night, he had a hard time finding slumber. And when he _had_ drifted off, the dreams came, … the central focus of which was a certain beautiful girl. But the dreams were bittersweet and left him with an odd, fearful feeling. So now he lay with his eyes open. … It was dark. And he had to use the bathroom.

Trudging his way back from the head, a noise caught his attention. Cautiously, he approached the living room, which he found alight with a soft glow. And there, standing by the Christmas tree was a portly old man, with one hand resting on his belly and the other holding a can of Coca-Cola, which he proceeded to take a swig of.

"You know, caffeine will keep you up all night."

The older man startled upon hearing the voice, almost splashing the drink. "Damn it all, Mikey! Don't sneak up on your old man like that!"

"Shh," Mikey Roberts hushed his father. "We don't want to wake everyone up."

Big Bud agreed with a grunt.

"Seriously though," the young midshipman told his dad, "you won't be able to sleep if you keep drinking that."

"That's what I'm hoping," was the mumbled response.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, fine," Big Bud gruffly answered. "What are you doing awake?"

"Had to use the head. I heard noise in here, so I came to check it out." Then, slightly embarrassed, he admitted, "… And … I was having some wacky dreams."

"Bad dreams?" asked his dad with more concern than Mikey would have expected.

"Not entirely bad. … Just weird mostly."

"Weird how?" Looking a little uncomfortable, Big Bud, added, "… I, uh … I got time … if you wanna share."

"No, that's alright," Mikey declined, wary of this softer side of his father.

"Oh, come on," pleaded Big Bud, trying to sound chipper. "I could use the company, and you look like you could get it off your chest."

Mikey hesitated, but eventually sat down, and his father did likewise.

"Well, I'm pretty sure I was dreaming about Christmas of last year," started the younger Roberts. "Chaplain Turner had been preaching. And I had just heard about getting into the Academy. But the first thing I really remember … is a big room. It was all white in my dream. Everything was white. … And then there was this group of girls. They were all real pretty, … wearing these tight, white formal dresses with long gloves and everything. They were from the south, I think. … Yeah, they were southern belles … all done up."

"Sounds like a pretty _good_ dream to me," his father interrupted.

"Well, it was at first," agreed Mikey. He got a wistful smile on his face, as he said, "And there was this one girl … Her name was Carol, and she was the prettiest of all the belles. I caught her eye and she smiled at me. She stretched out her hand for me to take, … and I fell in love."

Mikey was in a daze, thinking about his fantasy girl, as he continued to describe his dreams. "Then the white room turned into a white, sandy beach. It was an island, I think. Yeah, … Christmas Island. I held onto Carol's hand and invited her to walk on the beach."

"Was she in a bikini now?" asked Big Bud, hoping for that mental image.

"No, … shorts and a tank top."

"But the other women on the beach, … they must have been in bikinis?"

Mikey creased his brow as he remembered. "The beach was full of people, … but not lying in the sun. They were getting ready for a race. There were dogs … and those … inflatable figures that people put out on their lawns as Christmas decorations. The dogs were going to pull people riding on those things."

"You stopped dreaming of a beautiful woman to see dogs and blow-up Santas instead?"

"No, Dad. It's all connected. See, … Carol wanted me to enter the race so I could win money to get us to California, where she could meet up with her father. So I saddled myself up to a big inflatable snowman that was attached by two lines to a group of Huskies. … The race started, and the dogs took off down the beach. The snowman skimmed along the sand for awhile, but eventually lifted up in the air. And then the dogs ran into the water and somehow they changed into boats, and I was … almost parasailing, except it was like the snowman that I was hanging on to was flying on his own. We were soaring above the ocean, … above the world."

"So, did you win the race?"

"Yeah, I did. … But I ended up losing what was more important. … We somehow ended up in California. Carol appeared there. We spent Christmas Day together. … I gave her my heart last Christmas."

Mikey now looked very glum. "But the very next day, she gave it away. The day after Christmas I got up feeling like a king, because I was so happy. But then I looked out … and found her laying about, feasting on breakfast with this guy, Stephen. He was rubbing suntan lotion over her tanned skin, … so deep and crisp and even. … It turns out that it wasn't her father that she wanted to find. It was her ex-boyfriend, who she wanted to get back together with. … She was just using me."

For a fictional scenario, it left Mikey feeling very emotionally devastated.

"That's what women'll do to you," said the older Roberts. "Best thing is not to ever give them your heart. … But we can't seem to keep from doing that anyway."

"What's worse," said Mikey, "is that there was a man in the race, … father of three of the other belles. But they weren't from the south, … they were from some poor country. Those girls, … they were pretty enough, but their clothes weren't as nice as the rest. It turns out that their family lost their money. The father wanted to send his daughters to another country for a better life. He knew that if they stayed … his daughters would probably end up … working the streets." Mikey's voice was full of shame and pity.

"They were the ones who should have gotten that money," he continued. "I had wasted it on Carol instead. … But then, … in my dream, I suddenly had more money, … bags of it. So, I found the father of those girls and tried to give it to him, but he wouldn't take it."

"What kind of idiot doesn't take free money?"

"It was his pride. He wouldn't accept charity. He shut the door on me and closed all the windows to his small house. But I couldn't leave like that. So, I came back at night, climbed up on the housetop, and threw the money bags down the chimney. … It was the only way I could get the money to that family."

Big Bud looked surprised and confused. "Haven't you learned that if someone refuses a gift, you don't question it?"

"Dad, come on, I had to do something, … especially after I'd been played like that. … I really was a fool in that dream of last Christmas. … Maybe you're right; it's better to hold onto our hearts."

Big Bud noticed the disappointed and tired look his son wore and tried to be more optimistic. "… Why don't you try going back to sleep and dream of _this_ Christmas instead. But to keep you from tears," his father advised, "… this year give your heart to someone special."

"I don't think I've met that special girl yet," Mikey replied. Then he turned things around. "So, what's keeping you up?"

"Nothing."

"Come on, Pop. … I told you what's keeping me up. Maybe you'll feel better if you talk about it?"

"I'm fine," insisted the master chief.

"Okay," Mikey gave up. "… I guess I'll just go back to bed then."

He began to stand up, when he heard his father ask, "Do you ever have _really_ bad dreams?"

"Nightmares?" Mikey settled back down on the couch. "… Sure. Everyone does sometimes."

"I, … uh … I get these nightmares before Christmas every year," admitted Big Bud.

"What kind of nightmares?"

Mikey's father closed his eyes for a moment and recalled the images. "It's nighttime," he began to describe his dreams, "and I'm in an apartment, – a lot like the one we had when you were just a little tyke. … Anyway, there's this baby there with no one to look after it. And the baby starts crying and just won't stop. … I pick the little guy up and find this stuffed animal on the floor, … an oversized mouse, so I give it to the kid. He grabs it, quiets down, and finally starts to go to sleep."

Big Bud began to look more agitated. "That's when the dumb doorbell rings. I answer, and there's this very old man. He's a bum off the street, and he's got a hat out, … begging for change. I tell him to get lost. He says, … 'Please sir, just a penny.' I tell him I ain't got any, and I slam the door. But I hear him yelling from the hall, 'God bless you.'"

He continued the story, complaining, "The baby wakes up, of course, and starts to cry again. … I think maybe he's hungry, and I see there are some raisins on the table. I try to feed them to him, but he throws them down. … That's when I start hearing music … from people outside. There are carolers at my door … singing something about Peter and Paul and … soul cakes. … And that's when things start to get really weird," said Big Bud before taking a long pause.

"What happens then?" Mikey prompted.

"I open the door to tell the carolers to go away, … but I've never seen carolers like this before. They're not people. They're … figures that look like they were made of clay. … The first one was an angel, and while the others sang she looked at the baby and asked me, 'What child is this?' … I said, 'How the hell should I know!'" Big Bud exclaimed with frustration.

He went on. "Then there was this king, and he demanded the baby for himself, so I handed the kid over. Hell, I didn't know what to do with the kid anyhow."

After a moment, Big Bud swallowed nervously. "But the king … started hitting the boy. And then I … I changed my mind and tried to get the baby back. But I only managed to grab the damned stuffed mouse and knock the crown off the king's head. Then the mouse … grew big, … _really_ big until I realize it was a human-sized rat! It bends over and picks up the crown to put on his own head, and he draws a sword on me!"

His hands began to clench, as he proceeded with the story. "So, I look around for something to use as a weapon, but all I could find were the raisins, which suddenly seem to be made of that weird clay too. They began to grow legs and arms and … and grew big too! The carolers kept singing, … some new song now, … and the raisins started … dancing. And suddenly we're in a forest."

Mikey noticed his father was beginning to sweat. The older man stared at a point on the floor, not hiding the fear on his face.

"They all gather and start piling rocks around this one tree -- a Christmas tree. But there was another tree, which they named. They called it Jesse. It, … you know, … looked like a Christmas tree, but it was bare. Then this white bird flies over me. … I thought it was going to crap on my head, but it just heads to that … Jesse tree. And then an apple falls from the branches, even though it's not an apple tree."

Big Bud hesitated, swallowing down the lump in his throat. "I try to pick the fruit up, when I'm surrounded by … monsters."

"Monsters?" asked Mikey.

"Yeah," his father confirmed. "… Don't laugh, but they were creatures from old horror films. Zombies, Dracula, … that hunchback guy, Wolf-man, … even Frankenstein. … They were all clay-creatures too. … I thought they were gonna come after me." Big Bud rubbed his neck protectively. "…But they were busy with their new play. … They planned to rob Santa's sleigh."

Mikey would have expressed amusement at that idea if his father didn't look so terrified.

"And there was this one guy with a jack-o'-lantern head running around. I'm not sure what he was doing, but I think he wanted to … hijack Christmas or something. … Other creatures were going to blast the North Pole, and attempt to drill into Santa's workshop."

With a distant look, Big Bud recounted, "… That's when I see the rat king again; … he had the baby, which had turned into that clay stuff too. I tried to go after the kid, but some of the singers got in the way. I realized that one of them … was the devil."

After another gulp, the retired master chief whispered, "He … he told me not to bother. And then I saw that a new figure had the child. It had been with the carolers too, … wearing a hood. I realized then that the figure was … Death."

He risked a quick glance at his son, before insisting, "I tried to tell him to leave the kid alone. The baby was innocent, hadn't done anything to deserve to be hurt. But he … when he saw me coming near, he … ripped the leg off the child, … just like it really was clay. And there was a horrible scream … I don't know if it was the baby … or me."

Big Bud closed his eyes. "I found myself back in uniform. I was deployed … and for some reason, I was in Sarajevo that Christmas Eve. When the sound of screaming stopped, … it was totally quiet. I knew there had been a lot of blood spilled."

For a moment, he paused. "…The next day, Christmas Day, I looked out onto the river in the morning, and I saw three ships come sailing in."

"Then what?" asked Mikey. "Who or what was on those ships?"

"A guy named Emmanuel captained the first boat. Other than that, I don't know," his father admitted. "That's where I always wake up." He tried to recover, and dismiss the nightmare. "I don't know where that nonsense came from. It must have just been some undigested meat, or bad cheese, or something else I ate before bed."

There was still a look of terror and guilt on Big Bud's face. Mikey knew that the dream had shaken his father and that it was far more meaningful than the simple manifestation of some food substance, -- though it would have been more likely to have been the influence of the alcohol his father had consumed prior to bed than from any bad meat or cheese.

"You know what I think?" said Mikey. "I think you should take your own advice and go back to bed."

"No, thank you."

Mikey tried to lighten things up, suggesting, "Maybe there's a happy ending to the dream after all. You know, … like Santa thwarts the monsters' efforts to rob his sack by giving them presents of their own, – a new cape for Dracula, a razor for Wolf-man so he can shave. Maybe the monsters will learn about the Christmas spirit."

Big Bud did not find his son's comments amusing.

So Mikey tried again. "Maybe something very good is on those ships. Something that represents how everything can be saved."

"Oh, yeah, I'm sure everything will work out in the end," said Big Bud sarcastically. "Countries will see the light and declare, 'War is over. Happy Christmas.'"

"No, but maybe the baby ends up okay after all. Maybe that child will be able to overcome Death. Good does have a tendency to triumph," said Mikey. "We just have to have faith."

"I guess," his father reluctantly agreed.

"Go back to sleep," Mikey encouraged. "Nothing bad will actually happen. We're all safe here, … surrounded by family."

"I'm glad I'm here," Big Bud admitted.

"Yeah, … there's no place like home for the holidays," Mikey reflected with a smile. Being with his brother's family made that statement really true this year. "… Now let's get some rest before little AJ comes waking everyone up."

The two Roberts' men made their way back to bed. They had only pleasant dreams the rest of the night.

----

The next morning Mac thought she registered Harm get up to use the bathroom and brush his teeth before coming back to bed, but she was not awake enough to know for sure. Content that he was by her side again, she fell back to sleep.

Forty minutes later, she was ready to get up. She glanced at the clock, which was blinking 12:25 at her. The time was wrong, of course. It simply indicated that the power had come back on twenty-five minutes earlier.

When Mac emerged from the bathroom, she gazed at the empty bed. Harm had been there when she got up, hadn't he? For a brief second she questioned whether she had dreamt all of what happened the night before. But her anxiety did not last long. Mac could feel him nearby. She could see the sheets tangled and the impression left in the pillow he had slept on.

She figured he might be in the kitchen, but he wasn't. A quick search found him, eyes closed, lying on the floor underneath the Christmas tree, resting his head on his hands.

Mac approached him, and when he opened his eyes, she exclaimed, "Look what Santa left me! Are you my present?"

Harm laughed as Mac sat down next to him. "Maybe," he answered. With a look of mischief he asked, "Are you going to unwrap me?"

This made Mac laugh too. She leaned down to kiss him, before responding with a smile, "Not today. But, with any luck, … soon. … What are you doing lying out here anyway?"

"Uh, … checking to see if any presents were delivered while we slept."

"I thought you weren't expecting Santa?" she questioned.

"_I_ wasn't, … but I thought he might have given you a visit."

With a slight trace of sadness, Mac told Harm, "Santa hasn't come for me since I was a _very_ little girl."

It nearly broke Harm's heart. He noted, sympathetically, "You stopped believing, didn't you?"

"Yeah, I guess I did," Mac said.

She paused, remembering the previous evening and Harm's words. 'Yes, MacKenzie, there is a Santa Claus,' he had declared, as a confirmation of his love.

"… Until last night," she amended.

This made Harm smile. "Well, I guess that made the difference." He pointed to an envelope that Mac had not noticed under the tree. It had 'Sarah' written on it.

She eyed Harm skeptically, but picked up the envelope and opened it. Inside was a creased piece of paper cut into a shape.

Upon unfolding it, she discovered that it was a heart. And written on it was:

"HR + SM

Forever"

Mac raised her eyebrows as she looked at Harm. "This is from Santa?"

"Well, I didn't hear anyone else sneak in here last night, did you? He's the only one who could have gotten in without you noticing, don't you think?"

Mac was beaming, as she told Harm with some surprise, "You _are_ a romantic at heart."

Seriously, Harm noted, "Only with you, Sarah. …" He couldn't help the tug of a smile on his lips though as he added, "'Cause you're part of my heart." He pointed at the paper still in Mac's hands.

"Corny, sailor."

"Too corny?" he checked.

Mac's eyes were twinkling, during her brief pause. "… No, … I'm enjoying this new side of you," she decided. "Are you ready for some breakfast?"

"It's my job to give that to you, isn't it? … Since we spent the night together?" He had never forgotten her comment from years ago, the morning after they had to spend the night in the Appalachians when she had been shot in the leg.

Mac vaguely remembered joking with Harm at some point after they had to 'spend the night together' that she expected breakfast the next morning, so she conceded, "I guess it is." However, she insisted, "But _I'm_ making the coffee."

She got the brew going and went to shower and get dressed. Mac spent a little more time than usual selecting an outfit. Something casual and 'Christmassy' that she would look especially good in – for Harm.

Walking into the kitchen, Mac inhaled the scent of cooking food. "Smells good," she said. She immediately noticed bacon lying out, ready to be fried up. "And you're making …"

Mac stopped talking when Harm, with a bare chest, came into her view.

"Bacon?" Harm finished for her. "… Yes. I figured you might want some, since it was in your fridge."

"Uh, … yeah," Mac agreed, only partly paying attention to what he was saying. The image of him in nothing but the airplane PJ pants she had given him had her mentally drooling. She had imagined him in only this attire when she purchased the pants, but the reality was so much better. And so distracting.

"Is there a reason you're shirtless?" she asked, without really thinking the question through.

"Now that the heat's back on, I got warm, … so I took the sweatshirt off," he explained.

"Yeah, but … you should … put a t-shirt on or something," Mac told him.

"This bothers you?"

"… No." She shook herself out of her daze, and answered with more focus. "No, … it's just … the bacon splatters. … You could burn yourself."

"I'll be careful." He smirked a little with the knowledge that she was covering for the fact that she found his current state of dress distracting. That was okay. Truth be told, he was finding her in her Christmas outfit quite pleasantly distracting as well.

Mac's attention was drawn to Harm's current activity. "What's this?"

"Pancakes."

"I know _that_." She was referring to the shapes that he was making with the batter. "Are those … socks?"

"Stockings," Harm corrected. "For Christmas."

"Ah," said Mac, understanding. "What's the one you're working on now?"

The one he was playing with in the skillet was certainly more complicated than a stocking.

"This one," he replied, "is an angel." Then he added, "… In honor of you."

Smiling despite herself, Mac shook her head. "Sappy, Rabb."

"I was trying to be romantic," he defended himself.

Mac looked at him in an amused manner. She seemed to be reflecting over something.

"What?" asked Harm, referring to the way she was looking at him.

"Just you … becoming a romantic."

He grinned. "Certifiably so."

"Oh, you're certifiable alright," teased Mac about his sanity. She approached him, and added, "But I love you anyway." She put her arms around him and let her hands enjoy the feel of his bare skin. She was about to give him a kiss when they heard a knock at the door.

"Why is it, … when you are about to kiss me, someone has to knock at the door?" Harm asked, slightly frustrated.

"I don't know, … but you'd better put a shirt on."

"Why?"

"… People might get the wrong idea."

Harm's face contorted. "And what would the wrong idea be?"

Mac didn't have time to banter with him at the moment. As she made her way to the door, she pinned him with a glare that left no room for dispute. "Shirt, … now," she demanded, pointing at him and then to the bedroom.

As he headed to find the shirt he had on last night, he glared back. "Since you're my girlfriend, you get to boss me around now?" Harm inquired with a smile.

Mac, who had just peeked to see who was on the other side of the door, looked back at him and smirked. "And don't you forget it," she joked, before pulling on the handle.

"Merry Christmas!" said Kelly when she saw Mac.

"Same to you," Mac greeted.

Seeing that Mac was dressed, Kelly noted, "Good, you've been up. I was afraid we'd come too early. Bobby insisted -"

Mac started looking around to see if the boy was also in the hallway, so Kelly interrupted herself. "Oh, he's coming. He ran back to get something."

Mac nodded and looked at her neighbor to continue.

"In the meantime," said Kelly, "I can return your cookie pla-" She stopped mid-word, as she saw Harm come out, pulling a shirt on. She was enamored with the view.

"Hi," said Harm, breaking the trance the visitor was in.

"Hi," Kelly responded brightly. "Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas to you," Harm replied. There was an awkward moment of silence, until Harm noticed the empty plate. "Cookies gone already?"

"Almost. There are a few left, but they'll be gone before lunch. Thought I'd bring the plate back before I forgot." She started to hand the dish back to Mac, but Harm intercepted it.

"Here, … I'll take that to the kitchen," he offered.

"Thanks," said Mac.

Kelly's eyes trailed after Harm as he walked to the kitchen.

"… Stop that," Mac ordered lightly, with the hint of a grin.

"Stop what?"

"Checking out my boyfriend."

Kelly tried to justify herself, "Hey, he's hot and there's no - … Wait. … What happened to 'we're just good friends'?"

Mac smiled. She wanted to share the news with someone. "We talked after you left last night, … and realized that we both … want more with each other."

"Of course you do. Sooo, … talking wasn't the only use of your lips last night, was it?"

Mac blushed. "There may have been … some kissing," she admitted, knowing it was an understatement. Earth shattering, incredible, and wonderful would not even do justice as descriptions of last night's kisses.

"And?"

"And … our change in relationship is new," she cut off Kelly's line of inquiry. "I'm just so …" Mac was floating on her happiness and couldn't find the words. "… He loves me," she finally said. "I'd always hoped, but … he really does."

Kelly recognized the significance of what was happening. This was not just about dating the hot guy.

"This is serious," Kelly realized. "Like, 'he's the one' serious."

"Yeah," Mac admitted.

"Wow, no wonder you're glowing. I figured it wasn't that you broke out the feel-good liquor this early in the day," Kelly joked. "Otherwise, I'd ask for some."

Not wanting to address her alcoholism, Mac simply smiled and declared, "I haven't had a single drink this morning."

"But you're all lit up like a Christmas tree," Kelly pointed out, referring to Mac's blissful state.

Harm came in just in time to hear the last part of the exchange. "There'll be no lighting of any trees here," he said. "Once they catch fire, you've got less than 30 seconds before the whole room is ablaze. A few seconds more and you're dead from smoke."

Both Mac and Kelly looked at him incredulously. It was Christmas day and he was talking about death?

He sensed that they wanted to get back to happier things. "So, how's Frosty?" he asked.

"See for yourself," answered Bobby, who appeared in the doorway.

"Well, look at that," said Harm. "Frosty's free." The bird was no longer bandaged up as he had been the night before.

Bobby walked into the apartment and Mac reached to stroke the back of her finger along the parrot's wing. "Almost good as new," she commented.

"Thanks to you guys," Bobby admitted.

"Harm's the one who always manages to pull something out of his magic hat and make things better," said Mac.

Frosty suddenly burst out with a loud squawk, followed by, "Happy Birthday!"

Mac jumped back, and Harm was equally surprised.

"I told you he could only say one phrase," Bobby told Harm.

Kelly explained, "My husband taught Frosty that for Bobby's last birthday. I'm afraid it doesn't make sense most of the rest of the year."

"Oh, I think it's very appropriate for today," said Mac. "This holiday is really about celebrating a birthday, after all."

"I guess that's true," said the boy's mom. "Bobby, you got the gift?"

Confused, Mac pointed out, "We already exchanged gifts."

"For Christmas," Kelly agreed. "But this is a thank you for last night."

"That's not necessary," Mac objected.

"Bobby wanted to get you something."

"It's nothing big," the boy said. "You two helped Frosty, and Mom says thank you gifts are appropriate." He shrugged. "… Plus, we had one of these leftover from what Mom had me give my teachers this year."

Harm and Mac were again amused at the boy's forthrightness. Come to think of it, maybe they owed him a gift for inspiring their 'what if' game the night before, which had led to so much more.

Mac politely accepted the three-inch square box wrapped in pretty paper with pretty ribbons of blue. "Thank you. That was very nice of you to think of us."

"No problem," answered Bobby, just as Frosty started knocking into the boy's head with his beak.

"We'd better go," Kelly decided.

Her statement was followed by another loud squawk from the bird.

Bobby decided to translate. "Frosty wants to wish you a merry Christmas from the bottom of his heart."

Harm was about to thank Frosty for his 'wishes,' when the bird gave out another squawk. Then the parrot surprised everyone, saying, "Feliz Navidad!"

Kelly looked at her son. "When did you teach him that?"

"I didn't," admitted Bobby, equally shocked.

"Maybe Spanish is his native tongue," joked Harm.

Bobby's mom suspected it was actually the cleaning lady who was responsible, but kept her thoughts to herself.

"I wish Dad was home for Christmas, so he could hear this," said Bobby.

His mother ruffled her son's hair. "He is home with us … if only in our dreams." Kelly then declared it time for them to leave.

When the neighbors had gone, Mac looked to Harm. "You want to open it?"

"Nah, you go ahead."

"Okay." She unwrapped the box and found inside a glass ball ornament with the words 'Adeste Fidelis' inscribed upon it. She read it aloud.

"What does that mean?" asked Harm.

Mac shot him a look as if to say that he ought to know.

"What?" he questioned defensively. "You're the language expert, not me."

"Do you at least know what language it is?" she asked him.

"Of course I do," he said. "It's … Latin."

"Very good," she told him.

"Hey, I picked up a thing or two in law school."

"Well, you'd better be able to tell me what 'fidelis' means, or I'm revoking your honorary Marine status," Mac threatened.

That, of course, gave Harm the hint he needed for the meaning of that word to click in his brain. "The Marine Corp motto – 'Semper fi,'" he stated. "… 'Fi' is short for 'fidelis.'"

"Uh huh," Mac encouraged him to continue.

"The motto means 'always faithful,' so, 'fidelis' must be the word for faithful," he declared with triumph. "Do I get to keep my honorary status?"

"For now," Mac answered with a smile.

"So, what does 'adeste' mean?" he asked.

"It's sort of a call to follow or join, … to be present," said Mac. "'Adeste Fidelis' is the title of the song, translated as … 'O Come All Ye Faithful.'"

"I know that song," said Harm.

"I would think so."

"That ornament will look nice on your tree," Harm told Mac as he scanned her Christmas tree for an open spot.

She pursed her lips for a moment. "You know," she said, "… Bobby gave this to both of us."

"What are you suggesting?"

Mac held up the ornament. "It means we have joint legal custody …"

One side of Harm's mouth raised in a lopsided smile. "Like the picture."

"And frame," added Mac. "… Since that pair of items gets to stay at my place for Christmas, I think the ornament should go to yours. … It can be the first decoration we hang on your little tree."

"Okay," Harm agreed. "We switch off, so you get it next year?"

"… Maybe by next year," suggested Mac with hope, "… we won't have to switch off for physical custody."

Harm smiled at her shyly and quietly agreed, "Maybe we won't."

It was the twinkle in his eyes though, that made Mac want to jump up and down with delight. She refrained from doing so, but Harm saw how happy she was, and that filled him with a joy he had never known before.

"I'm going to finish getting breakfast ready," he said, remembering he needed to feed her.

"Sounds good," Mac agreed. She went to place the ornament box on her coffee table to take to Harm's place later. It was then that she noticed the little bell she had left on that table the night before, … the bell that couldn't jingle. She had forgotten to throw it out with all the mess from the s'mores.

She picked it up to discard now, when to her surprise, it made a noise. She shook it, and, lo and behold, … it jingled.

"Hey Harm," she called to him as she walked to the dining room where Harm was placing something on the table. The bell went jingling all the way.

"Yeah," he answered.

"It jingles today," she said, baffled.

"That's the broken bell from last night?" he asked for clarification.

"Yeah. … How do you suppose that happened?"

Harm was surprised as well, but suggested "… Maybe the thingy inside was just jammed. Stuck or something. We must have loosened it up."

"I guess." Mac laid the bell on the dining room table next to her Advent Wreath and followed Harm into the kitchen.

"You ready for food?" he asked.

"I'm starving," she said, stealing a piece of bacon.

"I'll take that as a yes." His hands were full with serving-plates of bacon and eggs. "… You wanna grab the pancakes?"

"Sure," Mac answered. Harm had warmed the pancakes up and put them on a platter. The 'angel' was atop the stack. The rest appeared to be 'stockings,' though one of them caught Mac's eye, because it looked like something else.

"I'll be there in a minute," she called to him. "Go ahead and sit down."

As he waited, Harm thought about what Mac had said to Bobby about Harm pulling things out of a magic hat. "You know, it wasn't magic last night that helped with Bobby and Frosty," Harm said, loud enough for Mac to hear.

"No?" she responded.

"No. It was just a matter of convincing Bobby that his bird would live and be fine. That was the tricky part."

"I never doubted you for a minute," Mac called back.

"Of course you didn't," Harm took on his false bravado. "You saw me using my incredible lawyering skills of persuasion."

Mac rolled her eyes though Harm couldn't see her in the kitchen.

"It even makes sense to believe in me now. I mean, I must be a pretty good lawyer. I take a _very_ skeptical little boy who's convinced he's a failure and that he's killed his father's prized possession, and I prove that he's not guilty of anything. I convince him that all he has to do is be calm and confident to pull his bird through to be healthy as ever. … That's just good lawyering skills," said Harm.

"Magic, on the other hand," he continued as Mac came into to room, "would be if I could snap my fingers and make a candy cane appear before me."

Harm snapped his fingers to demonstrate that he did not have magical powers. At the same time, Mac used a spatula to serve him a special pancake, putting it on the plate in front of him.

Upon seeing what was instantly before him, he stopped. "… Or maybe I didn't do such a wonderful thing after all," he relented. "… How did you know I was going to say that?"

"You _did_ do a wonderful thing with Bobby," Mac assured him, "… but you had help." Placing her hand on his shoulder, she told him, "… I guess you're going to have to accept than when it comes to the two of us, Flyboy, … there _is_ magic."

"No arguments there," he agreed, with something of a suggestive look. Then he accused her, "You used one of your visions, didn't you?"

"No, I just thought the shape of that particular pancake made a better candy cane than a stocking. … So, I decided to fix it up for you. It's not as good as the angel you made for me," she admitted, "but I figure the candy cane represents how 'sweet' you've been being." She caressed his cheek and then went to sit down.

Harm was moved by her thought and gesture, but did not let himself outwardly react too much. Instead, he turned his plate around and examined the shape the other way. "It _could_ be a stocking," he persisted.

"Well, before I added the stripes, it looked like something that should be on the end of a fishing line," Mac argued, as she filled her plate.

"Maybe I meant for this one to be a hook," he objected, with a mischievous grin.

Mac stopped what she was doing and smiled up at Harm. "Because you finally 'hooked' me?" she guessed.

"Because I'm 'hooked' on you," he corrected.

Mac looked at him in an odd manner, and then flippantly declared, "It's a good thing you've got jelly on that pancake, because you sure don't need any syrup."

"Why not?"

"Because you're already dripping with sap," she pleasantly observed.

They enjoyed breakfast. Afterwards, Mac told Harm to get dressed while she did the dishes. He objected, but she insisted on cleaning up since he had cooked.

Harm had decided not to bother getting the sea bag from his car. He would just throw on yesterday's clothes for now. Later, he would shower and put on clean clothes at his apartment to get ready for his evening 'date' with Mac.

"Mac, do you know where my shoes are?" he called to her from the bedroom.

"You took them off by the fireplace last night," she replied.

"Oh, right. Thanks." He suddenly had a feeling that he would be experiencing similar moments many times in the future, when Mac would know where his things were better than he did. He realized that he considered that to be a nice thought.

He found his shoes by the fireplace, but as he picked them up, he realized that there was an envelope in one of them. It had his name on it.

Harm opened it up to find a folded paper heart, just as Mac had received, although this one was made of red paper.

He unfolded it to find 'SM + HR Always' written on it. He smiled, put his shoes on, and went into the kitchen where Mac was just finishing the dishes.

"This," he held up the envelope, "was in one of my shoes."

"What is it?" asked Mac.

Harm opened the heart up to show her. "Know anything about how it got there?" he asked.

"Hmm, … Santa must have left it. Looks like he found you last night after all."

"And left it in my shoe?"

"Sure," said Mac. "That's a traditional place for St. Nick to leave gifts. And since you don't have your own Christmas tree here, he had to leave your present somewhere."

"He gave us matching gifts," Harm pointed out.

"I think he just gave us an assurance of what we already know." Mac looked intently into Harm's eyes. "What we already share. Santa knew we just needed some faith."

Harm smiled brightly. "I guess so."

Something in the way he was looking at her made Mac ask, "What?"

"You believe in Santa Claus," he said.

"Yeah," Mac agreed. She thought they had already covered this topic earlier in the morning. "More importantly," she told him, "… I believe in us."

She was leaning up to kiss him when there was a knock at the door.

"Oh, come on!" Harm exclaimed in frustration.

Mac started to move away from Harm to open the door, but then changed her mind. Quickly, she pulled on Harm, bringing his mouth down to meet hers, and they shared one much too short, but intensive, kiss.

When they finished, it left them both a little stunned. They did not release their holds on each other. But the knocking persisted. "Your visitor is getting impatient," Harm whispered to her.

"Serves them right for lousy timing," said Mac, brushing her lips across Harm's one last time before pulling away to answer the door.

She peered through the peephole and then informed Harm, "It's the maintenance man."

Mac opened the door. "Noel, hi."

"Merry Christmas, Ms. MacKenzie!" the young man greeted.

"Thanks. Same to you."

"I have just come to check that everything is okay after last night's outage."

"Yeah, everything seems to be back on and working fine," Mac assured him.

"Do you mind if I take a look at your heaters?" he asked.

"… Uh, no. Go ahead." Mac did not know what the man needed to check, but figured it didn't matter.

As Noel entered, he began to converse with Mac. "So, do you have plans for today? Because if not, I'm planning -" he stopped mid-sentence when he spotted Harm standing in the background.

"Hi," said Harm, realizing the man had just noticed him.

Noel's demeanor completely changed. He nodded slightly at Harm, but then walked past without saying another word.

"That's odd," Mac commented quietly to Harm when Noel was out of earshot. "He's usually quite friendly."

"I don't think he likes me," Harm stated.

Mac just shrugged.

"He's got eyes for you," Harm pointed out. "… I'm competition."

"There is no competition," Mac gently protested.

"He was flirting with you."

Mac smiled at Harm. "Well, he's not nearly as bad as Noel, Sr. is"

"Noel, Sr.?"

"His father. Noel is a junior, like you."

"And his dad lives here as well?"

"He's the building manager," answered Mac.

For some reason, Mac found that Harm's criticism of men showing interest in her was cuter now that he had actually laid a claim. Before, she had always been too frustrated at his constant disapproval, considering he had never been willing to step up to the plate.

"And how does the first Noel treat you?" Harm inquired.

"Pierre Noel? … He's always giving me things. Calls me cutesy nicknames." Mac cocked her head at Harm. "… You jealous?" she checked.

"Should I be?"

"No."

"Then I'm not," Harm assured her.

"Ms. MacKenzie," said Noel, coming back. "Everything looks good."

"Thanks, Noel."

The young man stared at her, seemingly entranced.

Though he may not have been jealous, Harm did not appreciate the young man practically salivating over Mac. Harm took it upon himself to usher Noel out. "Yeah, thanks for coming by. We wish you a merry Christmas and a happy New Year."

Noel resisted Harm's urges to leave. "Ms. MacKenzie, I need you to sign this piece of paper. Just to say I was here and checked on things."

"Okay."

Noel motioned toward the dining room table to take care of the paperwork.

He reached the table first and picked up the little jingle bell to move it out of the way so that Mac had room to sign the paper.

As Mac signed the page, Noel shook the bell to ring it.

"Here you go." Mac handed him back his sheet of paper.

"Thanks," said Noel. He jingled the bell again in front of her. "Do you need another bell?" he asked.

"No, thanks," Mac answered, unsure why the man thought the bell needed a partner.

"That's too bad, it's broken. … You sure you don't want me to find a replacement?" he asked.

When she didn't respond, Noel added, "I might be able to find one that actually rings in my father's collection."

Mac and Harm looked at each other apprehensively.

"Uh, … no, thank you," Mac finally answered Noel.

"Okay," said the young man. "If there's anything I can do, just let me know," he told her.

"Thanks, Noel. Merry Christmas."

When the young man left, Harm picked up the bell and shook it.

"You hear it, don't you?" Mac asked.

"Yeah," Harm hesitantly admitted. "You too?"

Mac nodded.

"You think he was playing a joke on us?" Harm asked.

"I think … this … is a special bell," Mac decided, taking the item from Harm. "I think we should hang it on your Christmas tree right next to our new ornament."

"Even if the bell is actually broken?"

"Do you believe it rings?" she asked.

"Yes."

"If you believe it rings, and I believe it rings, … does it matter what the rest of the world believes?"

Harm shook his head no and came close to hold Mac. She put her arms around him and looked up at his face.

"Adeste fi, Harm. Do you believe in the spirit of Christmas?"

Harm considered it. Despite the pain due to his father's capture many years ago when Christmas was nigh, he did feel the goodness of the holiday.

"Yes," he said. "I believe in the spirit of giving and of love." With a grin he added, " … Especially of love." He was so much more at ease than Mac had seen him in a long time. "But more importantly," he quoted her from earlier, "I believe in us."

Mac's heart ballooned for the umpteenth time in the past twelve hours. "I want to kiss you," she whispered.

"What's stopping you?" asked Harm.

"I'm afraid someone is going to come knocking on the door again."

He smiled at her. "No one will interrupt us this time."

"How can you be sure?" she asked.

"I have faith," he said.

Mac slid her arms up around Harm's neck, and decided, "I have faith, too." They came together in a slow, gentle kiss. And with no knocks at the door or any other interruptions, they embraced tighter and, once again, indulged in the best Christmas gift ever. A beautiful present of love wrapped up in each other.

---

And so we now leave the whole JAG crew

With Christmas dreams: past, present, and new

Wrapped up in family, supporting each friend

Cautions of vices that cause hearts need to mend

Lessons from presence of Spirit or wraith

And all is much better … when you come with true faith.

**The End**

Author's Note: Thanks for being patient with this story and for the reviews from the 'faithful' readers. Please tell me what you thought of this part or of the story as a whole. It really does encourage me when I know people are reading. Putting these stories together and formatting them for posting actually takes a lot of time and work … at least for me. And feedback gives me some much needed happiness!

So, at the beginning of this last part, how many people thought it was Harm walking in on Santa? And did you think it all ended ok? Though I have had some fleeting ideas for a sequel, I do not have any plans to write one at this time. I do plan to get working again on 'JAG Continues,' but you probably won't see more of that for awhile yet. I might do a short story here and there in the meantime. We'll see what my schedule allows.

Merry Christmas in July (and into August)!

Challenges: When I started posting, I set out two challenges. The first one was for me to post daily. I was doing really well on that until the very end - when I failed miserably.

The second, and far more interesting challenge, should you choose to accept it, is to make a list of all the Christmas song/movie/story/tradition references that you can spot in this story and email me at: you can do better on that challenge than I did on my daily postings there at the end. Let's say, if you're interested – get the lists to me by September 30th, and I'll see who did the best.

Eventually, I will post my own list, which will be more of a crediting/explanation of the various references. (So, realistically, your deadline is any time before I post that … which won't be anytime soon.) Wish I could offer a prize, but I can't – except to grant you bragging rights!

Disclaimer: In case you forgot, the JAG universe, unfortunately, does not belong to me. However, Bobby, Kelly, Frosty, Noel Jr. were all characters I made up. So don't go hunting for references to them on your JAG DVDs!

-- Teacup


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